Victory for Zim!
by Lord Moldybutt
Summary: Eight years after the events of "The Most Horrible Xmas Ever," Zim is forced to enact his most evil scheme yet: getting TALLER! Will he finally destroy Dib and conquer Earth? Or will his new feelings for Dib's sister complicate the mission? A ZAGR piece.
1. The Hatching of a Plan

**A/N: No, this isn't Kingdom Hearts. It isn't even close. If you wish to read the pitiful little sobstory that goes with this massive change in direction, go and visit my profile page (assuming the thing has updated by the time you see this). If not, just keep reading and pretend I never brought it up.**

**In other news, I _have _returned to this site. For those of you who know me and have forgiven me for killing the KH series, you may be wondering why I'm writing something like this. Or you may have noticed the scattered little hints I dropped that I am, indeed, a fan of _Invader Zim_. The idea for this story came to me in some kind of Dr. Pepper-induced vision, brought on by the silly idea to rewatch my _Invader Zim_ DVDs. So now here I am, excited to be working on a story for good ol' FF.**

**This story is intended to be a ZAGR piece (Zim and Gaz romance, for those familiar with the terminology... took me about a week to figure it out). This might be yet another reason to dismiss this as the most idiotic thing to ever come from the desk of Lord Moldybutt. But I'm pretty excited about this, so without further ado: _Victory for Zim!_**

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**Chapter 1: The Hatching of a Plan**

In the private universe of Invader Zim, all was not well.

Zim had been working undercover on planet Earth for eight long years, during which time his progress had been minimal at best. Never had he been closer to Earth's total destruction than when he'd disguised himself first as Santa and then as the Easter Platypus in a magnificent holiday plot, but that too had blown up in his little green face. Since that incident, Zim decided to break down the domination of Earth into a step-by-step process.

The first step of the process was by far the most difficult: destroy _Dib_, the human who had been the bane of Zim's existence since his arrival on planet Earth. Dib, with his enormous head and irritating vow to protect the planet from its inevitable destruction, was a thorn in Zim's side that stubbornly refused to go away. Dib was also one of only two human beings on the whole planet who knew of Zim's true Irken identity. This made him a powerful threat to Zim's mission, and the only logical conclusion Zim could draw was to focus all of his amazing power on disposing of him.

Unfortunately, this had proven more difficult than Zim had first anticipated, which would explain his current situation.

Dib and his scary purple-haired sister, Gaz, were now eighteen years of age. They were now part of the senior class in Hi Skool, the highest level of free human public education. Zim, still posing as a normal human child, was also a senior in Hi Skool. However, blending in with the other human children had become a problem in recent years, due to a bizarre quirk in human biology: _puberty_.

As soon as Zim and his human classmates entered Hi Skool, Zim began to notice certain changes taking place in the humans. The males acquired denser muscle structure and deeper voices; the females seemed to develop udders on their chests and undergo monthly cycles of pure _terror_. But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that the humans were getting _taller_.

The most dastardly side effect of puberty was the incredible growth spurt it caused human children to go through. At age eighteen, Gaz was now at least five feet and seven inches tall, while Dib was rapidly encroaching on _six_ feet! It wasn't fair! It was _madness_!

Irkens, on the other hand, did not go through puberty. Zim hadn't grown a single inch since the time he'd been a little smeet, well over a hundred Earth years ago. He was still stuck at the degrading height of the average _fifth-grader_, which greatly hampered his ability to function in the barbaric Hi Skool environment. In addition to the "skin condition" he was reputed to have, rumors were spreading throughout the Skool that Zim was also a midget. It was demeaning, and Zim didn't like it one bit.

Soon, however, Zim would discover that he had even bigger problems on his three-fingered hands…

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

Zim was sitting in homeroom.

Zim's homeroom was overseen by none other than Ms. Bitters, who had somehow managed to transfer to the Hi Skool sometime last semester. The dark, snakelike old woman hadn't changed a bit in seven years, and her new room at the Hi Skool was so similar to her old one that Zim almost felt like he was in her fifth-grade class again. The only real difference lay in the attendance roll, which now included Gaz. Gaz sat three rows down from Zim, in the desk directly behind her brother. Her amber eyes were fixed upon her shiny new Game Slave 4, and she was so quiet that it was almost as though she weren't there at all.

Through the contact lenses that concealed his true Irken eyes, Zim took a moment to observe Gaz. Human biology was a subject of great fascination for Zim, and of all the females in the Hi Skool, he noted that Gaz was perhaps the best specimen of human female anatomy. She was thin, but very shapely—a stark contrast to the streamlined and efficient body structures of Irken women. Her black and gray gothic clothing served to cover most of her features, but they could not hide the curvature of her body or the unblemished paleness of her face. She had grown her hair out a bit—it now reached to her shoulders, but she still kept it in the same style she'd had since her very early youth.

_Yes,_ Zim thought to himself, _the Gaz human is a glorious specimen. When I finally conquer this planet, she will be the _first_ to be dissected. That should at least get an amusing reaction from Dib… and it will be neat._

Zim's thoughts were interrupted by the harsh, unforgiving voice of Ms. Bitters as she delivered what Zim just _knew_ would be the most completely pointless announcement in the history of pointless announcements. It was probably unworthy of the time it would take just for him to listen to it, and it was _surely_ nothing his incredible brain did not already know.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

"Attention, senior class," Ms. Bitters announced. "As you know, the end of the Skool year is mere days from now. After that, you'll all be dragged kicking and screaming into the unrelenting clutches of our society's mediocre workforce. Most of you will spend the rest of your miserable lives barely sustained by the minimum-wage salaries of your dead-end jobs. On the other hand, some of you will be sent to college, where your bank accounts will be emptied by the high cost of tuition and your dreams will be crushed beneath a mountain of heavy textbooks and meaningless education. Either way, you're all _doomed_."

Immediately, an arm shot up. Dib, as usual, had something to say.

Dib had changed very little in seven years—aside from getting bigger. _Everything_ about him was bigger now: his black trench coat was longer, his scythe-shaped hair had gotten longer and become jagged, and his voice was louder than ever before. This made him doubly annoying to anyone within earshot of him—particularly Zim. And Dib's head… it was so ridiculously large that no one dared to speak of it anymore.

"Uhhh… Ms. Bitters?" Dib asked. "What category does 'Paranormal Investigator' fall under?"

Ms. Bitters glared at Dib for a moment before replying, "A minimum-wage drone, Dib. You will be a minimum-wage drone."

"_What_?" Dib exclaimed, apparently in shock. "Are you sure? Paranormal Investigators don't need even a _little_ higher education? That's _crazy_! Paranormal investigation is a legitimate branch of science, and I think—"

"_Do not question your second-rate destiny!_" Ms. Bitters hissed, a glare of such cold finality reflected in her spectacles that Dib dared not question her further.

"Okay, so I'm doomed to be a minimum-wage drone," Dib muttered. "Fine! That just means I'll be able to become a Paranormal Investigator _faster_! Which means I'll get the tools I need to finally stop _you_ faster, Zim!" With that, Dib leaped up from his desk and pointed accusingly at Zim. "You'd better enjoy the rest of this week, Zim, 'cause once we graduate, _nothing_ will stop me from exposing you for what you really are!"

Perhaps it was not the smartest of actions, but Zim immediately hopped on top of his own desk and spat, "Just _try_ it, filthy mammoth-headed stink child! Even after this so-called 'graduation,' you still will be no match for the superior might of _ZIM!_ HA HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

After a moment, Zim ceased his maniacal laughter to find that all of his classmates were staring at him. Yes, it had _definitely_ not been a good idea to explode like that, but Zim couldn't help himself. Irkens were the superior species, and Zim did not like to be challenged. Still, Zim knew, it was very easy to reverse the situation.

Zim settled back into his seat and let out a tiny cough. "I mean, uhh… _look at Dib's head_! It's _huge_!"

"My head is _not_ huge!" Dib cried in protest. "My head is _normal-sized_! Why doesn't anyone see that?"

"Dib," Ms. Bitters barked, "be quiet and take your seat before your head eclipses the sun."

As Dib slid back into his desk in defeat, Zim chanced another look at Gaz. She still hadn't looked up from her GS4, but there was a distinct smirk on her face that hadn't been there before, no doubt in amusement at Dib's misfortune—misfortune, Zim thought proudly, that _he_ had brought about. _Hmm… perhaps Gaz has a higher capacity for appreciating my amazing Irken greatness than I'd thought._

Zim chuckled to himself a bit over his victory, but his smugness was not to last. If what Ms. Bitters and Dib had said was correct, then Zim had only _days_ left before Dib became a proper Paranormal Investigator. And if Dib was annoying _now_, using only his own dull wits and equipment from his father's basement, then one could only imagine how unpleasant he would be when he finally got his hands on some _real_ tools. Zim couldn't let that happen, or his entire mission would be jeopardized.

Thus, as the minutes ticked by in relative silence for the rest of homeroom, Zim began to hatch a plan.

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

Zim arrived at his house at precisely 3:45 p.m. that day, just as he usually did. However, today he decided he had no patience for his robotic parental units and ignored their clichéd greeting of "welcome home, son" without so much as a second glance.

He found GIR waiting for him in the living room, watching something painfully stupid on television. "GIR!" Zim snapped as he entered the room, "Turn off that mindless poop channel! We have work to do!"

The little robot immediately shot up from the couch and turned off the TV, his teal eyes turning blood red as he snapped to attention. After only a second, though, GIR's eyes returned to their usual color as he declared loudly, "There's a party in my tummy!"

To prove his point, the teal panel on GIR's torso swung open, and a horrific amount of confetti and little party streamers erupted in Zim's face. Much of the confetti managed to get into Zim's mouth as he wailed in protest, forcing him to spit it out at regular intervals when he spoke. "GIR—_pfft—_stop blasting—_pfft_—party favors from your—_pfft—belly_!"

GIR did as he was told, and the confetti shower came to an end. Zim took another moment to hack up what was left of the colored paper he'd swallowed. When he was finished, GIR clapped his mechanical hands together with a shout of, "YAAY! I wanna do it again!"

"_No_, GIR!" Zim barked. "I told you we have _work_ to do!" Zim looked around for a moment, then continued, "Computer! Take me to the science bay _immediately_!"

Zim stepped onto a certain floor tile in the middle of the living room with GIR at his side. As soon as they were in position, the floor tile began to sink, descending into the bowels of Zim's secret underground base.

Zim removed his clever human disguise—consisting of two contact lenses and a black hairpiece—as he explained the circumstances to GIR. "GIR, the situation is more serious than you know. In a few days, the Hi Skool seniors will undergo a ceremony called _graduation_."

"Aww!" GIR squealed happily. "Is there gonna be a party? I got more confetti!"

Zim shook his head. "_No_, GIR, there will be no party. After this _graduation_, the Dib human will gain access to proper alien-fighting tools! Just _imagine _the _horror_!"

"I like horror," GIR mused.

Zim ignored the comment as he continued his monologue. "We're running out of time to destroy Dib before he becomes too powerful for even me—_ZIM—_to handle. We can't let that happen, GIR! We'll have to come up with a plan that's even more ingenious than usual. But _what_? _What_?"

At last, the floor-tile elevator reached the science bay, a typical Irken laboratory well-stocked with various weapons, gadgets, and doodads, the majority of which were quite lethal. As the little Invader and his robotic minion passed this collection of insidious doom machines, Zim continued to ponder just _how_ to destroy his nemesis. "Hmm. _Hmmm_._ HMMMMM_!"

"Why don't you just go blow up his giant head?" GIR suggested offhandedly.

"_Silence, _GIR!" Zim commanded. "This is _serious_ work we do. I can't be distracted by the _dookie_ that spews from your mouth!"

When GIR offered no further comment, Zim continued to think. "How best to destroy the Dib human? It won't be easy, GIR—Dib's gotten clever over the years. _Stupid_, but clever. And he's so _tall_! How do all those Earth filth monkeys get so _tall_? Such stature is a privilege unworthy of their stinky human intelligence! _I _deserve to be taller than _they_ are!"

Suddenly, Zim froze. A fiendish smile crept its way onto his green Irken lips, and there was a certain gleam in his pink Irken eyes as the proverbial light bulb finally switched on. He rubbed his black-gloved hands together in a menacing manner as he murmured, "Yes, I _do _deserve to be taller. And _taller_ I shall become. Heh heh heh… ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha! AH HA HA HA HA HA HAH!"

"EEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEEEE!" GIR chimed in, joining his master in the most diabolical laughter they'd shared since last week. As dysfunctional as GIR's internal processors were, he did know one thing: when Zim laughed like that, it meant he had a plan. And when Zim had a plan, madness was never far behind.

GIR liked madness.

He liked madness _a lot_.

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**A/N: And that brings us to the end of the first chapter. You'll notice that the chapters here are much shorter than they were in the KH series (only 2,000-3,000 words apiece). **

**I do hope my first foray into the world of _Invader Zim_ fanfiction is satisfactory, at least. I'll say that GIR is a very difficult character for me to write, because I haven't the faintest idea of how his little computerized mind works. At any rate , I have a good chunk of the story typed out already, and it grows by the day. Hopefully, this (combined with shorter chapter length) means faster updates for you. Feel free to leave a review if you like, even if it's just to yell at me.**

**This story is currently rated T because that little section talking about puberty is pretty much as bad as it gets (aside from all the Sci-Fi action/violence to come in later chapters). If at any time you believe the rating should be changed, feel free to point out your concerns.**

**Brownie points to anyone who catches the _Yo Gabba Gabba _reference.**

**Well, it appears I've run out of things to talk about. So it is with not a little satisfaction that I type the words some of you thought you'd never read again:**

**Until next time, Lord Moldybutt signing off.**


	2. Reaching New Heights

**A/N: Here I am, back a little earlier than I'd first projected. This is mostly because I'm bored, messages have stopped pouring in, and I don't want to post chapters late in the evening (my story-writing time). **

**This chapter is almost a thousand words longer than my previous one, mostly because I'm introducing a new literary device here. I've never tried it before, but I'm p[retty excited about using it. What is it, you ask? I think you'll know it when you see it.**

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**Chapter 2: Reaching New Heights**

"All right, GIR! Ready the immersion tank for imminent… _immersion_!"

"Okey-dokey!" GIR did as he was told and began pulling levers at random on a large console, pretending to be doing something productive. This was the beginning of what was sure to be Zim's greatest plan ever.

Zim had possessed an immersion tank—a large cylinder made of a purple metal alloy produced by an Irken-owned manufacturing planet—in the back of his science bay for quite some time, but he'd never found a proper way to use it. At one point, he'd even considered converting it into the universe's biggest paperweight, but he'd eventually laid that idea to rest. Now, he was glad that he had.

Zim had spent the better part of the afternoon visiting the homes of young adolescent children, collecting hormone samples under the pretense of "medical purposes." In reality, Zim had been harvesting growth hormones in order to dump them into his immersion tank. Now, with the fall of night, Zim was finally ready to enact the first phase of his masterful plan to annihilate Dib. This was also the only phase he'd bothered to work out yet, but he could worry about the rest later.

Zim was currently situated on a metal seat just above the immersion tank. A long metal pole extended from the seat, attached to which was a large circular target. It was from this vantage point that Zim recapped his magnificent plan to GIR.

"Yes! The mixture is finally _ready_! Now, I can bathe in the growth hormones I harvested from the humans. When I emerge from the tank in four to six hours, I will be as tall as any of the Hi Skool pig-smellies! Now remember, GIR: all you have to do is launch something at the target when I say _now_."

"Okay!" GIR exclaimed, opening the hatch in the top of his head and removing from it a rubber toy pig.

Zim's eyes widened in surprise. "No, GIR!" he cried, waving his arms in protest. "I wasn't ready yet! _Don't throw that piggy_!"

But it was too late. GIR hurled the toy at the target with all his strength. With the _clang_ of pig on metal, the target flew back in recoil, triggering the mechanism for Zim's seat. The seat suddenly collapsed, and Zim splashed into the dense green liquid of the immersion tank. _"I hate you, GIR," _he tried to say, but all that came from his mouth was a series of large air bubbles and accompanying gurgling noises.

"Buh-bye!" GIR shouted before trotting out of the laboratory. Zim wasn't supposed to leave that tank for a good while, so the little robot had free rein until his master emerged.

GIR wondered if Krazy Taco was still open at this hour…

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

Deep in the cold, dark recesses of Zim's underground science bay, something was beginning to stir within the great immersion tank in the back. There came a low _hissing_ noise from within the tank that grew louder and louder as it went on. There appeared upon one side of the tank a tiny glowing spot that grew brighter as the hissing grew louder, until hissing and brightening came together to reveal the source:

A purple-colored cutting laser was slicing through the tank.

In a moment, the cutting laser succeeded in cutting a rectangular hole four feet tall and two feet wide. The cut-away section of the tank clattered to the floor, immediately followed by the gushing of several gallons of green goop as it rushed through the hole. In the midst of that torrent was an Irken, gasping for breath and covered in slime. The cutting laser now retracted into the Irken's PAK, form which it had originated.

After a moment of desperately trying to fill his lungs with sweet, sweet oxygen, the Irken shakily rose to his feet. "Ooh!" he exclaimed in his nasally voice. "That _robot_! He left me in the immersion tank too long! If I hadn't cut myself free, who _knows_ how freakishly tall I may have become?"

It was then that the Irken sat up for the first time and got a good look at himself. He examined for a moment the new length of his arms and legs, blankly staring at them and wriggling them about to make sure they were really _his_. It did not take long for him to realize that those _were _his arms, those _were_ his legs… and yes, those were _his_ enormous feet.

"YAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

An inhuman shriek filled the air as Invader Zim realized that his experiment had worked.

Perhaps _too_ well.

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

GIR was sitting on the sofa in Zim's living room, munching on a taco as he watched the Scary Monkey Show, which he numbered among his favorite programs (a list that changed every ten seconds and sometimes included watching a blank TV screen). Beside him was an immense paper bag _filled_ with tacos, courtesy of the local Krazy Taco outlet. However, when GIR heard the screams coming from the science bay, his programming suddenly went into overdrive: he took a slightly larger mouthful of taco and stared a little bit harder at the TV.

The unearthly shriek that pervaded the air of the entire base was soon followed by a _crash_, then a _clang_, then a cry of _"Oh dear Irk, I'm in such pain!"_ But through it all, GIR didn't blink a single robotic eye. Nor did he do much of anything until at last, a _very_ tall Irken appeared in the kitchen doorway, gasping for breath and leaning against the wall to hold himself upright.

It was _Zim_.

Zim's experiment had exceeded all expectations: he was now roughly six feet and one inch tall. His Invader uniform had managed to grow along with him, thanks to the miracle of Irken nanotechnology, so at least _clothing_ wasn't an issue. However, Zim found that his newly elongated appendages seemed a bit less stable than they'd once been. Zim hadn't been the most coordinated of beings _before_ the change… but now, it was a challenge to even stand.

"GIR," Zim exclaimed, "you were supposed to get me out of the immersion tank _hours_ ago! Where were you?"

GIR looked up at his master with wide-eyed innocence as he murmured, "_Oh, yeah… _I was gettin' tacos!"

"_Tacos! _You left me in an immersion tank for _twelve hours_ so you could get _tacos_?"

"I got some burritos too," GIR pointed out.

"No matter!" Zim shouted with a wave of his hand, which proved to be a mistake—he lost his grip on the wall and nearly fell face-first to the floor. When Zim caught himself and became stable once more, he continued, "Your forgetfulness actually seems to have come in _handy, _GIR. Now, I'm taller than _any _of those disgusting pig monsters at the Hi Skool—even _Dib_! Now, I've achieved the perfect height to stare into my enemy's face as I _CRUSH HIM! _All I have to do is train myself to use these grotesquely long limbs."

Zim released the wall and, though he nearly fell over again, he kept his feet planted until he was finally steady. "Now, GIR!" he declared triumphantly. "I'm going to Hi Skoo—AAAAAH!"

Zim was interrupted as he took his first triumphant step forward, managing to trip over his own ankles and crash to the floor. "I'm okay!" he shouted, using the wall to right himself. His _second_ triumphant step, however, proved no more productive than the first. Several more attempts were made, but they all produced the same results.

Perhaps mastery of his new great stature would be more difficult than Zim had first anticipated…

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

"So you see students, over time our sun will become a red giant, increasing in radius until it consumes planet Earth in a fiery conflagration. Then the sun will die and collapse into a black hole, sucking in the rest of our solar system."

It was a quiet day at the Hi Skool. Mrs. Bitters was sharing another of her famous apocalyptic lectures with the class, though no one was really paying attention. Many of the students were doing what they did best: sitting in the classroom with their minds completely blank. Gaz was once again playing her Game Slave 4, paying absolutely no attention to the world around her (which, she had discovered long ago, was much too boring and stupid to hold her attention for long). Everything was perfectly normal.

Naturally, this set Dib on edge.

"_Pssst! Gaz_!" Dib whispered, slowly turning to face his sister in the seat behind him. "Have you noticed something _odd_ today?"

Gaz didn't bother looking up. "You're whispering like an overly-dramatic idiot?"

"No!" Dib shouted, eliminating any secrecy his whispering had afforded him. "It's _Zim_! He isn't here today! He's _never _not here… unless he's _plotting_ something. But _what_? _What?_"

"I hope it's a plan to shrink your giant head," Gaz muttered.

Dib, in his usual fashion, ignored the comment as he continued his ramblings. "This is _serious_! Who _knows_ what kind of evil schemes his alien mind is cooking up while we're sitting helpless in homeroom? He's probably already putting his plans into action, going around and doing… _stuff_. _Alien_ stuff!"

At last, Gaz decided she couldn't take it anymore. She paused her GS4 and looked Dib squarely in the eyes; her gaze penetrated into Dib's very core as she said through gritted teeth, "Dib, if I have to put up with _one more syllable_ of your stupid rants about Zim, I will rip off all your limbs and use them to…"

Gaz's not-so-idle threat was interrupted by the sound of the classroom door as it slowly swung open. Everything went quiet; even Ms. Bitters paused in mid-lecture as the opener of the door made himself known. Even Gaz, who wasn't easily impressed, couldn't help but stare.

After a moment, the awestricken silence was broken (predictably) by Dib. "Is… is that _Zim_?"

Indeed, Invader Zim… or someone who _looked _like him… stood leaning in the doorway, his legs wobbling as he tried to maintain his balance. He was still able to pass for human—his head hadn't grown very much during his immersion, so his contacts and hairpiece still fit him properly—but even such a brilliant disguise was not enough to hide a single glaring detail that now drew the stares and slacking jaws of everyone in the class. A shout from a student sitting in the back of the room described it best:

"Hey! Zim got _tall_!"

This cry, which served no real purpose but to point out the obvious, at least seemed to help Dib recover from his shock. Immediately, Dib's paranormal expertise allowed him to analyze the situation and reach the most logical conclusion. "Aha!" he exclaimed, pounding his fist upon his desk. "I knew it! Look, everybody! I _told_ you he was an alien, and now he's used some kind of advanced technology to make himself taller!"

"Nonsense!" Zim scoffed, managing to sound confident even as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. "I'm not an alien! I'm just a… a _late bloomer_! And now I've finally hit my growth spurt! Yup, everything's perfectly normal; no need to concern your pitiful human brains."

"Yeah," one of the students nodded. "My uncle was a late bloomer. He's a hobo now."

"Zim's right," another student agreed. "And our brains _are _kinda pitiful."

Dib's jaw hung open in utter astonishment once more—this time not at Zim's new stature, but at the ignorance of his own race. "Oh, _come on_!" he argued. "Hitting a growth spurt this late in senior year is improbable enough, but _that much overnight_? Does anyone else see something _wrong_ here? Huh? Huh? Anybody?"

"Ho ho ho!" Zim scoffed, now smug in his assurance that he had won over the minds of his peers yet again. "Don't listen to Dib. Listen to _me_! I'm _tall_!"

All the students breathed a sigh of relief at that, much happier to believe the "logical" explanation over Dib's crazy spiels.

Except Gaz.

Gaz didn't trust herself to _breathe_.

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

This is how it feels to be Gaz, right now…

You've known Zim for a long time. _Eight years_, as a matter of fact. You remember that when he first arrived on Earth, you felt no different about him than you did about any other living creature you'd ever met: apathetic. You knew he was too stupid to take over the Earth, and you only got slightly annoyed at him when his plans interfered with your own (a certain trip to Bloaty's Pizza Hog comes to mind).

But as the years passed and you began to grow up, something changed. You don't know when or how it happened, and you certainly can't figure out _why_, but your feelings toward Zim have changed. You see it in him now: a quality… you might even go so far as to say a _quirk_… about him that has always fascinated you.

Zim always wins.

You don't know how he does it, but you've watched it happen time and time again. Zim is an incompetent—it took you all of five seconds to figure out that he was an alien, and that was just the _beginning_. But somehow, he always manages to come out on top. Over the years, you've watched him get into trouble and get himself out again more times than you care to count. It's almost as though there's a _brilliance_ behind his bungling, _ingenuity_ behind his idiocy. No matter what he says or what he does, he always has just what it takes to make sure no one can touch him.

This quality puzzles you, and it fascinates you. _You _are smarter than that; _you_ always know exactly what you're doing and exactly how to go about doing it. You cannot fathom how someone can stumble through life as Zim does, making everything up as he goes along and hoping—_knowing_—everything will work out in the end. You know it is this quality that has kept him from becoming a specimen on an autopsy table for nearly a decade. You remember trying to figure it out once or twice, but you've long since given it up now. You've chalked it all up to the Great Mystery of Zim: that one subject you know you will never understand.

It is for this reason that, over time, Zim has gained your respect. You admire him because he is the only person (if an alien can indeed be called a person) to ever beat the system—the only concept to ever escape the far-reaching clutches of your logic and reasoning. He's certainly more complex than your insane older brother, whose entire life can be summarized in the words _paranormal _and _big head_.

You are polar opposites: Zim the blundering egomaniac with a stroke of brilliance inside him, you the quiet and reserved young woman who is far too intelligent to care about the lesser beings that surround you. But even though you are vastly different, beneath the difference lies a fundamental truth.

Zim is the first person you can finally consider your equal. _That_ is why you _really_ respect him. But for all the respect and admiration you've held in your heart for Zim, you have always considered him beneath your notice: a little green man with the unreachable goal of world conquest.

That isn't the case anymore.

Now, you look at Zim and see the difference for yourself. He certainly isn't _little _anymore, and after knowing him for so many years, it's very easy for you to overlook the _green_. Now, as Zim stands in the doorway of your homeroom class, you see him for the first time as what you should have known him all along to be.

The being you see before you is a _man_.

Something about that unsettles you. Maybe it's the way he's leaning there in the doorway, his face perfectly nonchalant even when his legs are quivering and shaking beneath him. Maybe it's the way his height seems to make him more _commanding_, as if just being tall gives him some great new authority that even you cannot question. Or maybe it's the way you can't bring yourself to look into his eyes, because every time you do you know that he's_ staring _atyou.

You. Specifically.

Your breath is catching in your throat, and your heart is starting to race. You try to force your lungs to work, to tell your heart to _slow down_ before it incurs your wrath… but you cannot stop it. Thinking about it only makes it worse. Thinking about _Zim_ makes it a _lot_ worse. But there isn't much else to think about, because there is nothing to distract you but the thought of _you and Zim_.

That sounds wrong even in your head.

In the end, you find that you can't even move. You don't _want_ to move, because the slightest jerk of the head or twitch of the arm might let Zim know that he's affecting you. You're even reluctant to move your eyes as you search for something in the room to focus on—_anything_ to take your mind off the _man_ leaning in that doorway.

You are too late. No matter what you try to think about, a single childish thought continues to emerge, and the harder you try to push the thought from your mind the louder it becomes:

Zim is _hot…_

This is how it feels to be Gaz, right now…

* * *

**A/N: And there you have it. Zim's finally tall, and Gaz is already beginning to notice.**

**There's not a whole lot to say this time, but I will express my gratitude for both new and familiar faces that have already dropped a review for this fic. Thank you, and may you enjoy more Zimmy goodness to come.**

**Until next time, Lord Moldybutt signing off.**


	3. An Alliance of DOOM

**A/N: More Zimmy doom. Enjoy!**

**Caution: I'm not sure how everyone else's high shool schedules work(ed), but the schedule here is based off my own experience: homeroom in the middle of the day, immediately followed by lunch.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: An Alliance of DOOM**

"Gaz! _Gaz_! You're starting to freak me out!"

Gaz was snapped to reality by the sound of an annoyingly familiar voice shouting in her ear. She was a bit grateful for the distraction—_anything_ to get her mind off of Zim—but that didn't prevent her cheeks from turning cherry red as she turned to face her brother. "What do you want, Dib?" she snarled, angry that _he_ of all people had witnessed her moment of weakness.

"Uhh… nothing. It's just that you've been sitting there motionless for about thirty seconds and you're not even playing your Game Slave. Are you _feeling_ okay?"

Was she feeling okay? Just _looking_ at Zim was tying her stomach into unspeakable knots, and Dib was asking if she was feeling okay. _No_, she was certainly _not_ okay… but she wasn't about to tell Captain Fathead that.

All she said was, "Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

Dib shrugged it off without a second thought. _Sisters_... they were a mystery that not even the greatest of paranormal investigators could explain. Instead, Dib focused on what he _could_ explain: Zim. It was obvious that he had somehow increased his physical height with the help of insidious alien technology, but exactly _how_—or, for that matter, _why_—remained unanswered.

However, Dib could see that the situation might be turned to his advantage. Zim was still leaning in the doorway, legs wobbling like pillars of molten jelly. Obviously, his rapid change in stature left Zim even more awkward and clumsy than before, unused as he was to his longer limbs and altered center of mass. It would probably take a while for Zim to get used to his new form… thus leaving the perfect opportunity for Dib to overpower him and expose his true identity.

Oh yes, a plan was already coming together.

As Dib began to form a new Earth-saving strategy and Gaz reluctantly resumed her game of _Vampire Piggy Hunter __5_, Ms. Bitters finally turned her attention to Zim. "Zim! Shut that door and take your seat. You're letting all the misery out."

Gaz watched in the corner of her eye as Zim's face scrunched up into an expression of uncertainty. "Why… of _course_, Ms. Bitters. I'll just… let go of this wall here and casually stroll to my seat."

Zim released the doorpost with one hand, though the other still gripped it tightly. But even with only one hand free, he was already teetering. Slowly, cautiously, Zim withdrew his other hand as well. He staggered but for a moment, then managed to regain his balance. He'd made some progress since emerging from his immersion tank that morning, and now was able to shut the classroom door and take one step, two steps, three…

"_YAAAAAAHHHHH!_"

He fell.

Perhaps it was the irony of seeing Zim's smugness vanish and be replaced with unadulterated panic in a matter of seconds. Perhaps it was because of the comical scream that had come from his lips before impact. It may even have been that Zim, unable to right himself, had to crawl on hands and knees all the way back to his desk.

Whatever the reason, the display gave Gaz the terribly irrational desire to giggle. She managed to stifle the laughter by bringing a hand to her mouth, and she didn't think anyone had seen her… but that wasn't really the point.

She was _Gaz_. She was _never_ supposed to laugh. _Smiling_ was a rare enough oddity, and the smiles Gaz _did_ give were usually of the malicious persuasion. Laughter of the kind that had almost escaped her lips… even if it _was_ at another's misfortune—was _unacceptable_. Never in the entire history of Gaz had such a childish notion entered her brain, and she didn't intend to let it start now.

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

The rest of homeroom passed at an agonizingly slow pace, but at last, the bell did ring and everyone headed off to lunch. Zim managed to reach the cafeteria with not a little difficulty, but he was still able to assert himself to the front of the line in his usual fashion. Gaz watched Zim with mild interest as he collected his daily sample of "human mouth-garbage," as she'd heard him call it once, and made his way to the lonely table at which he always sat. Or at least he tried to… about halfway to his seat, he tripped yet again and just barely managed to avoid getting food all over himself… instead, he got the majority of it on an unfortunate student standing nearby.

Gaz quickly looked away. There it was again—that stupid desire to _giggle_. She really needed to focus, lest she give in to her foolish impulses and make a complete idiot of herself. Between Zim's impressive new physical appearance and the comedic nature of his many stumbles, Gaz didn't know how much more she could take before she cracked.

Despite all her logic to the contrary, Gaz couldn't help but observe Zim as he made his way to his table. He'd given up on the food—which he never really ate anyway—and instead concentrated all his energies on reaching his seat. But Zim was now effectively a mass of tangled arms and legs, and he had a terrible time even traversing the length of the cafeteria. Gaz watched him endure rise after fall after rise after fall, until at last Zim managed to fling himself into his seat, panting and gasping for breath.

It was _pathetic_.

Yes, Gaz thought as she moved down the lunch line, it was absolutely _pathetic_. Zim was a wreck: he couldn't even _walk_, much less try to take over the world. If he couldn't get his act together fast, Dib was going to turn him into a science project within the week. Listing a captured alien menace on his résumé would surely get Dib a nice job as a Paranormal Investigator, and Zim would spend the rest of his pitiful life in the hands of Earth's scalpel-happy scientists.

That wasn't the Zim Gaz knew. That wasn't the being who'd earned her respect by proving how superior he was to the human race. And that _certainly _wasn't the archenemy who'd made a mockery of Gaz's big brother since Day One. Gaz couldn't invest her admiration in a freakishly tall Irken with no control over his own limbs.

As Gaz exited the lunch line with food tray in hand, she knew what she had to do. She had to restore Zim to his former glory, no matter _how_ long it took. After all, if she was going to respect him, he had to be _respectable_.

So it was that Gaz found herself going where no human Hi Skool student had ever gone before: to Zim's cafeteria table.

"Hey, Gaz! Where are you going? Our table's _that_ way."

Gaz turned around to find Dib standing before her, his own tray in his hands and a puzzled expression on his face. Gaz shrugged off her brother's bewilderment as she replied, "I'm sitting at Zim's table today."

Dib's jaw very nearly hit the floor. "_What_? Gaz, what are you thinking? He's the _enemy_! You don't eat _lunch_ with the enemy! Not unless it's some kind of enemy lunch, but that's totally different!"

Gaz only rolled her eyes and continued walking toward Zim's table, "Whatever, Dib."

"_Don't do it_, Gaz!" Dib begged. "He'll brainwash you with his alien mind tricks!"

Gaz didn't dignify that with a response as she moved on.

After a moment of watching his sister go with a flabbergasted expression plastered all over his colossal head, Dib dropped to his knees and raised his fists toward the sky. "_NOOOO! _Betrayed by my own little sister! You'll _pay _for this, Zim! _YOU WILL PAY!_"

"Hey!" a student in the lunch line shouted, pointing at Dib. "Dib's on the floor screaming melodramatically!"

"Let's throw stuff at him!" another student declared. Immediately, Dib found himself on the receiving end of a great barrage of rice and ketchup from the lunch line. Even a tray was used as ammunition, hitting him squarely in the forehead and knocking him flat on his back. "_Gah!_" Dib cried. "_I've been trayed!"_

Gaz was thankful for the distraction, even if it was rather on the extreme side. The last thing she needed was Dib spying on her while she talked to Zim—and since he was in _far_ too much pain to do that, now was the perfect time to begin her own masterful plan.

Gaz placed her tray directly across the table from Zim's, setting it down with enough force to get Zim's undivided attention. Just in case, though, she punctuated the tray-slam with a firm declaration: "Zim!"

"Huh?" Zim exclaimed, snapping to attention. After taking a brief moment to compose himself, he went on, "The _Gaz_ human? How _dare_ you violate the table of Zim with your filthy Earth filth?"

Listening to Zim's unmistakable voice and his distinctly alien pattern of speech was almost enough to make Gaz smile, as was the expression on his face: a look of such great seriousness that it was actually comical. Just sitting there in Zim's presence made Gaz feel inexplicably s_trange_, but she did her best not to show it. Showing weakness in front of Zim would ruin her plan, and showing weakness in front of _anyone _was against Gaz's very nature.

Thus, her face was perfectly unreadable as she said flatly, "Actually, I came over here so I could make you an offer."

"_You_ would offer something to _me_?" Zim echoed, at first a little stunned. However, it took mere seconds before that smug grin was back on his face and the overconfident tone was back in his voice. "And what do _you_ have that I, _ZIM, _could possibly want?"

Gaz's fiery amber eyes easily met Zim's stare. She was _not_ going to let him get to her, and this was _certainly_ not going to be a repeat of homeroom. Whatever her new feelings were for Zim, Gaz kept them perfectly in check as she replied, "The use of your limbs, for one thing."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Zim scoffed, folding his three-fingered hands together. He attempted to place his elbows upon the table in front of him, but he seemed to forget that his arms were longer than they'd once been—he managed to bash both of his elbows against the side of the table. "GAH!" he cried, quickly withdrawing his arms.

"That is _exactly _what I'm talking about," Gaz pointed out, inclining her head toward the injured elbows. "You can't take over the world if you manage to hurt yourself every time you move. You better get control of that new body and you better do it _soon_, or my stupid brother will turn you into a science project."

Zim dismissed the warning with one of his trademark evil laughs. "Your concern _touches_ me, little Gaz," he gibed, "but I assure you I am in no danger. Mastery of this taller form comes _easily_ to me!"

For emphasis, Zim threw his arms jubilantly in the air. At that precise moment, a student was walking past in order to fetch some extra napkins; Zim's triumphant arm thrust became an accidental punch to the student's face, sending him reeling to the floor. "I'm okay…" the student whimpered, extending a "thumbs up" with a trembling arm.

"Sorry!" Zim apologized, shouting just in case he'd damaged the student's hearing. "Sorry... about that. _I'm normal_!"

As the student slowly crawled away, Zim turned back to look at Gaz, who had observed the scene without the slightest change in expression. "Very well," he admitted, "I see you have a point. What exactly are you proposing?"

Gaz looked deeply into Zim's eyes, trying her best to convey a sense of urgency without sounding outright desperate. "Let me _help _you. You know how much I play video games, so I'm probably the most coordinated person in the entire Skool. I can help you get used to your new body so you can get back to conquering the Earth, or whatever it is you're supposed to do." Gaz extended her hand for Zim to shake. "Deal?"

Zim raised a brow and reached up to stroke his chin (very nearly punching himself in the jaw as he did so). "But… why would _you _help _me_? Dib is my most hated nemesis, and you're his _sister_."

"Dib?" Now it was Gaz's turn to scoff. "He's a moron. And if I sit back and let him beat you, he'll _never stop talking_ about it. It's bad enough hearing him complain, but listening to him _gloat_ is a thousand times worse. So this is for _both_ of us, not just you. So…" Gaz glanced back down at her extended hand. "Is it a deal or not?"

Gaz watched with not a little trepidation as Zim took her hand (_slowly_, so as not to accidentally injure her) and shook it firmly. Gaz's eyes widened for a moment: Zim's grip was surprisingly _gentle_, and the leathery material of his black glove felt as smooth as satin. For a brief moment, Gaz was reluctant to let go… but let go she did, though she kept the feeling in mind even as Zim spoke.

"Very well, Gaz… we will work together, and you will teach me to use this new _magnificent _body. And then, when I have mastered myself, I will go on to master the _world_. I hope you realize you're delivering your entire planet into my hands. Oh, well… I'll meet you at my base as soon as Skool is over. To be late is to invoke the wrath of Zim!"

"Oh, I'll be there," Gaz retorted. "You'll probably need my help getting back to your house without injuring yourself anyhow."

"Yes," Zim agreed, "_you_ will help me. Oh, such helping you will do—perhaps more than you realize, Gaz human. Ha ha ha… _ha ha ha ha… AH HA HA HA HA HA HA!_"

Gaz didn't quite understand why Zim was laughing, but it has been established already that she gave up on trying to figure Zim out a long time ago. But the fact remained that he _was_ laughing in an especially maniacal way, which Gaz found rather amusing to look at. And Zim's laughter was highly contagious—had Gaz been of lesser will, she might have been giggling right along with him. But even someone of Gaz's immense willpower was not completely immune to Zim's eccentric charm, and she soon found that she couldn't restrain herself anymore.

She _smiled_. A _natural_ smile, not a wicked grin of malice or a smirk of amusement at another's expense. No human being had _ever_ been able to make Gaz smile that way before… not that Zim was a human being to begin with. No, Zim was indeed a very special being, in more ways than one.

From across the cafeteria, broken down and covered in food, Dib watched in revulsion as his sister and his mortal nemesis conferred. He had no idea what it was they were talking about, having just caught the very end of the conversation, but Zim's maniacal laughter was always enough to send a chill down his spine. And when Dib caught sight of Gaz's smile, he knew that something, somewhere, _somehow_, had gone terribly wrong.

* * *

**A/N: DUN DUN DUNNNN**

**Regrettably, updates will not be coming in _as_** **quickly from this point forward. You can still probably expect one every two or three days, but certainly not _every single_ day. That's just madness! **

**Until next time, Lord Moldybutt signing off.**


	4. The Training Begins

**A/N: Okay, I lied. I still managed to get an update in today. But I mean it: after this, updates will take 2-3 days! Beware!**

**NOTE: Any grammatical errors made while GIR is speaking are usually there on purpose. Just wanted to give you the heads-up, since there's at least one in this chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Training Begins**

Zim arrived at his home at precisely 3:52 p.m. that day, walking arm in arm with Gaz. This was done _strictly_ for the purpose of preventing Zim from falling over, but to any casual observer on the street, they were walking a bit close for casual conversation. No one asked about it, though, and in truth, no one really cared. However, it is worthy of note that neither Zim nor Gaz looked very reviled by the idea of their close proximity, nor did they look particularly enthused. They were simply _there_, as though walking with elbows linked and leaning on one another for support was the most natural thing in the world to be doing.

The pace was a bit slow, lest Zim manage to make both himself _and _Gaz trip up on the sidewalk, but at last the two reached Zim's "base." The house and lawn looked just the same as they always had, and a sextet of lawn gnomes stared blankly at all who approached (Zim had upgraded his security a bit in recent years, which included adding two extra gmomes).

Gaz escorted Zim to the front door of the base, but it was there that Zim withdrew his arm from Gaz. "You wait here while I go disarm my _amazing_ security measures inside the base. If I don't, you'll probably never make it past the front door."

Gaz only folded her arms across her chest as Zim nearly fell through the door and into his home, slamming it shut behind him. Gaz didn't know what Zim was doing, but there seemed to be an unnecessary amount of _crashes_ and _clangs_ coming from the other side of the door. She began to tap her foot impatiently as she heard the sounds of what was obviously Zim stumbling all over his own living room. She even heard a muffled, "_Welcome home, so—AAAAAAHHHH!_"

Despite all this, it was only after Gaz heard Zim yelling, "_GIR! Get off the ceiling!_" that she decided to investigate.

Surprisingly, when Gaz opened the door, Zim's living room was spotless. Nothing was broken, everything was in its proper place, and GIR was sitting in the floor. The little robot was wearing his own clever disguise—a green dog suit with a prominently-displayed zipper on the front—and seemed to be staring at the ceiling. In fact, there was only one thing missing from the scene, though that _thing _was rather important.

Gaz raised a brow and looked down at GIR. "Where's Zim?"

"_HELP MEEEE!_"

Before GIR had a chance to even process the question, Gaz looked in the direction of the shriek to find Zim entangled in a nest of thick cables that covered his ceiling. Gaz' eyes widened in surprise as she murmured, "_Zim?" _Generally, Zim had found himself on the _floor _all day; although this could be considered an improvement, it wasn't a satisfactory outcome by any stretch of the imagination.

Fortunately, it took Zim but another moment to free himself… _un_fortunately, before he had time to celebrate, he plummeted to the floor ten feet below. "Ouch!" cried he, but it didn't take long for him to get back on his feet... more or less. He proceeded to plop down upon the living room couch before anything else horrible happened. Zim took the opportunity to remove his contacts and hairpiece and set them aside, allowing his antennae to wriggle freely for the first time in several hours. And his _eyes_, those twin orbs of solid magenta, made no secret of the fact that they were looking Gaz over very closely.

Zim was now sitting quite leisurely with his legs crossed, his left hand in his lap and his right arm stretched across the back of the couch. He still had that incredible look of nonchalance about him, as though he _hadn't_ fallen from the ceiling mere seconds before. It was amazing how perfectly at ease he was, even with a human in his home—a human who just happened to be the sister of his mortal nemesis. But the most disturbing part was that the seat beside him, underneath his right arm, almost seemed to be labeled _RESERVED PARKING: GAZ ONLY…_

Gaz shook her head again, a bit more vigorously this time. She didn't know how he was doing it, but Zim _had_ to be messing with her head somehow. There was _no way_ that a person, especially an _alien_, could possibly look _that_ enticing.

Gaz instinctively found herself searching the room, looking for something to distract herself with. _Anything_ to stop her heartbeat as it once again began to pick up speed. As soon as she saw something even _slightly _out of the ordinary, she seized the opportunity:

"What happened to those Robo-Parents you had?"

"Oh, _those_?" Zim chuckled. "I stuffed them in a closet. _Now_," he continued before Gaz had another chance to speak, "I have brought you here for the purpose of training me in the use of my _incredible_ new body. We should probably begin with something simple… but also something _useful_. But _what could it be_?"

Gaz stared blankly at Zim for a moment, waiting for him to reach the most obvious conclusion. But Zim only continued to sit there, as though very deep in thought. When it became obvious that Zim wasn't going to reach the answer by himself, Gaz offered, "We could always go with _walking_."

"Of course!" Zim declared, shooting up from the couch. "Brilliant! You may begin training me to walk with my ridiculously long legs _now_! And after I master walking, I will move on to _running_! And from running, I will move on to the _DOMINATION OF THIS PITIFUL PLANET! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAH!_"

Zim's wicked laughter soon became so overpowering that it proved too much for his shaky legs, causing him to fall back onto the couch. Gaz slapped her forehead in embarrassment. "We have a _long _way to go."

"GIR!" Zim called, apparently unfazed by his tumble. "Go buy us some doughnuts! This is _rigorous_ training I'm going through, and I'll need snacks to keep my strength up."

"Okay!" GIR affirmed. "Do you want a _jelly_ doughnut, or a _glazed_ doughnut, or a _powdered_ doughnut, or a _bear claw_, or a _apple fritter_, or a…"

"Just _pick_ something!" Zim told him. "And hurry back, GIR—we snack in one hour!"

Gaz only stood there with arms crossed as GIR trotted by. "Bye, scary lady!" he addressed her, waving as he passed. He then made his way to the window, opening it and leaping through. Once on the other side, he closed the window and then ambled across the lawn. The movements were all so natural that it was almost as though the _window_ was the proper way to exit the house, not the front door.

Whatever the case, Zim and Gaz were now alone.

Zim tried to rise from the couch again, this time managing to keep his footing as he stood. "Excellent! With GIR out buying donuts, we can begin my training without fear of interruption! Zim is ready to learn! _Teach me_!"

Gaz shot him a skeptical look. "All right, fine. Start walking—let's see what you're doing wrong."

"Foolish human!" Zim snapped. "My technique is _flawless_! But if you insist, I'll humor you—even if it _is_ just to show you how wrong you are."

With a confident gleam in his Irken eyes, Zim began to march across the room. It was actually rather impressive: he took five whole steps before he began to teeter, and it took a _sixth_ step before he finally tumbled backward…

Right into Gaz's arms.

Gaz had stayed fairly close to Zim (still keeping a safe distance, of course), waiting for the moment when he inevitably fell. When he did, Gaz grabbed him underneath his arms and managed to keep him from crashing to the floor. This saving catch had been completely autonomous—by the time Gaz realized what had happened, Zim was looking up at her with his big magenta eyes.

Those _eyes_! This was the first time Gaz had ever looked too closely at Zim's eyes (and indeed, one of very few times in her life she'd seen his true eyes at all). They were _magnificent_: two orbs of a dark, solid pink. But despite having no pupils or irises, Zim's eyes were just as expressive—perhaps _more_ so—than those of any human. Light flickered and danced within them, and if Gaz looked hard enough, she could see her own tinted reflection.

Zim's eyes looked like two sparkling pools of _pink champagne_. And like champagne, there was a certain quality about them that seemed to beckon and to entice…

Gaz dropped Zim before those eyes drove her completely insane. "Oww!" Zim cried as he hit the floor. "What'd you do _that_ for?"

Gaz shook the last thoughts of Zim's eyes from her mind and instead focused on something she was _much_ more comfortable with: harsh and unrestrained criticism. "You call _that_ a perfect technique?" she snapped. "That was _horrible_—it's like you try to shift all your weight into your _butt_!"

"Oh yeah?" Zim retorted as he rose shakily to his feet. "Well let's see _you_ do any better!"

With a look of angry indignation upon her countenance, Gaz proceeded to walk to the far end of the room and back again. When she returned, she looked Zim squarely in those pink-champagne eyes of his and spat, "There. Happy now?"

"Ooh!" Zim marveled, eyes widening in astonishment. "_Very_ good! Do you think you could… I dunno… _pace around_ a little bit so I can see how it's done?"

Before Gaz had time to answer, Zim reached between the cushions on his sofa, removing a pen and small notepad (how they got there, Gaz decided she'd be better off not knowing). He then sat in the middle of the sofa with pen and pad in hand, looking to Gaz as an eager young student might look at a particularly well-liked teacher. "'Kay! Ready!"

Gaz raised an inquisitive brow. Somebody was going to take _notes_ about her _walking_. Ah well, Gaz thought, why not? It wasn't as though it was the _weirdest_ thing she'd seen in her life. Actually, it didn't even come _close_.

So it was that Gaz began to pace back and forth across the room, with Zim paying very close attention. It has already been observed that human biology was a subject of interest for Zim, and so it came easily to him now as he studied Gaz's movements—the smooth, subtle transition of weight from one leg and one foot to the other with every new step. However, this didn't prevent him from taking notice of certain _other_ things.

Because humans gave birth to live young, the position of the pelvis in human females was not like that of males. It was positioned at an angle to allow for easier child delivery. The hips were also wider to aid in supporting the weight of a developing fetus in the womb. This meant that the posture of human females was different from that of males (either Irken or human), and even from that of Irken females. Irken children were grown in laboratories from regularly harvested cell samples of living Irkens. In order to promote genetic variety, the chromosomes within the cells were artificially rearranged before the cells were placed in an incubator tank, where they would develop into an Irken smeet. This eliminated the need for "child-bearing hips," which meant that Irken females were virtually identical to males in terms of biological structure.

Zim had never watched a human female this closely before, and now it _fascinated_ him. Gaz possessed a vaguely hourglass figure, a rarer variety of human female body shape, and there was a certain _art_ in the way she moved. Gaz's personality dictated that her movements were as quick and efficient as possible, but not even _she_ could completely hide the way her body subtly—almost _undetectably_, unless one was really paying attention—swayed with every step, most prominently at the hips. Her arms swung marginally to and fro in tandem with her pacing, adding to the overall grace and fluidity of her motions.

It was _glorious_.

And that wasn't the _only_ thing Zim had noticed. He also remembered with perfect clarity what he'd seen when he'd managed to look into Gaz's eyes… right before she'd dropped him. But even now, the image of her eyes was burned into his brain. Her black pupils encircled by amber irises looked like a pair of _black holes_, sitting right at the epicenter of two great supernovae. Those eyes were by far the most intense that Zim had ever seen… and the most _beautiful_, if one found beauty in such phenomena as an exploding star. Which, of course, Zim did.

So lost was Zim in these thoughts that he didn't notice when Gaz suddenly stopped pacing. Nor did he notice when she folded her arms and stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to respond. Nor did he notice as she drew breath into her lungs, preparing to get his attention the _hard _way…

"_Zim_!"

Zim gave a startled jolt as he looked up at Gaz. "Huh? What?"

"I've been walking around in circles for _six minutes_, Zim," Gaz told him. "It's your turn now."

"Of course!" Zim affirmed, rising from the couch. "_I_ will continue to practice walking with these hideous legs, and by the end of the day we will _see_ who is superior at doing… walky… things. AH HA HA HA HA HAH!"

Gaz had to give Zim credit: he managed to stay upright while laughing maniacally this time. But even so, it was clear that Zim had a lot of ground to cover in such a short time.

This mission was undoubtedly the most difficult that either Zim or Gaz had ever faced.

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

It was late in the evening, and all was relatively quiet in the house of Professor Membrane. The Professor himself was working on a late-night experiment in the labs; he wouldn't be home until the wee hours of the morning. Gaz _still_ hadn't come back from Zim's base, which made the only person left in the house—Dib—a little nervous.

Okay, it made him a _lot_ nervous.

As usual, Professor Membrane was overseeing household events via a floating two-way monitor that displayed live camera feed of his head and shoulders. It was to this monitor that Dib voiced his concerns.

"Dad, have you not noticed that Gaz hasn't been home _all day_? Are you not concerned _at all_?"

"Now just a minute, son," Membrane pointed out. "I remember _you_ used to go out all the time and play with that little foreign friend of yours."

"Who, _Zim_?" Dib questioned. "He's _not_ my friend! He's an _alien _here to take over the Earth! And now I think he's got Gaz in his sinister alien clutches!"

"Now now, Dib," Membrane said in a condescending tone, "your sister knows better than to kiss like that on the first date."

Dib grimaced in disgust. "BLECH! Don't even _say_ stuff like that, dad! That is wrong on _so_ many levels!"

Professor Membrane turned his head in the direction of something happening off-screen, most likely checking on his experiment. "That's nice, son," he murmured, clearly distracted. "Now I have to go—we're making a new plutonium isotope using only a car battery, a microwave oven, and a bowl of strawberry Jell-O!"

The monitor went blank and floated away. Dib heaved a sigh and shook his head; his father was getting eccentric with age, and his experiments were getting weirder. However, Dib supposed it was acceptable for the greatest scientist on the planet (not to mention the inventor of Super Toast) to be a little odd.

At last, near the hour of eleven o'clock in the evening, the front door opened and a familiar figure entered the living room as quietly as possible. But no amount of silence could escape Dib's paranoid vigilance—he immediately pointed an accusing finger at the figure and shouted, "_Gaz_! What are you doing home so late?"

"I was at Zim's house," Gaz replied simply. She'd spent all day helping Zim to master his new body (between periodical snack breaks and GIR's occasional mischief-making), and she was worn out. Hanging out with Zim had been surprisingly fun, but it had definitely fatigued her. She _certainly_ didn't have the energy for an annoying big brother right now.

Dib didn't seem to notice—he was too fixated on the idea of Gaz voluntarily being anywhere _near _his mortal enemy. "I _know_ you were at Zim's house! I was gonna go over there today and get into his base while he's still tripping over himself, but I couldn't because _you_ were over there the whole time! What were you _doing_, anyway?"

Gaz glared hard at Dib for a moment before answering, "If I tell you, will you get out of my face?"

Dib gave a curt nod. He may have been eager for information, but he knew not to get on his sister's bad side. A certain incident with pig demons had taught him that a long time ago.

"_Fine_," Gaz admitted. "I'm helping Zim get used to his new body so he doesn't fall over or break something every two seconds."

"_What_?" Dib gasped. "How could you do this, Gaz? First you sit with him at lunch, and now you're _helping_ him? _Why_? What has he done to you?"

Gaz rolled her eyes in exasperation. "He didn't do _anything_, Dib! The most evil thing he did all day was _buy us doughnuts _and then get _crumbs_ all over his couch!"

Dib hesitated for a moment, putting a finger to his chin. Surely there was _some_ ulterior motive _some_where. There was no way Zim would _ever_ buy doughnuts for the humans he intended to destroy. "Hmm…" Dib mused. "Did you check the doughnuts for some kind of mind-controlling agent?"

If Gaz weren't so tired, she would have punched Dib in the gut. "_Look_, Dib. All I'm doing is helping Zim not be such a hopeless klutz anymore. If he doesn't get better by the time we graduate, I'll give up on him. So give me just a _few days_ without screaming in my ear about _aliens_ all the time, okay?"

Dib lowered his head in defeat. He knew Gaz didn't share his enthusiasm for… well, _anything_ really, let alone the welfare of the entire human race… and now she was finally getting out of the house like a normal eighteen-year-old. And besides, it was only until graduation day. How bad could it be?

"All right," Dib conceded. "I'll keep away from Zim's house for now. Just… _be careful_¸ Gaz."

"Yeah yeah," Gaz replied with a yawn. It seemed she was even more sleepy than she'd thought. "I'm going to bed now."

Without another word, Gaz slowly ascended the stairs that led up to her room. She was a bit surprised that Dib had let her win the argument so easily… but then again, graduation was mere days away. And Gaz had given her word: after graduation, she'd wash her hands of Zim and all the madness that came along with him.

She could do it. After all, she'd not even _noticed _Zim very much until that afternoon. And surely she wouldn't become _that_ attached to him in such a short period of time. _Of course not_.

But no matter what Gaz told herself as she slipped into her pajamas and wrapped herself in her warm, soft sheets, she dreamed of an alien that night.

* * *

**A/N: And there you go. This chapter wasn't quite as comedy-centric as the last one was, but it's still pretty important. **

**I stand corrected: _this_ chapter, talking about human/Irken anatomy and reproductive systems, is about as bad as it gets. I got the information on Irken biology from the IZ wiki and what limited information can be found in the actual show. I'm 90% sure I got all my facts right about female skeletal structure, but I _am _a guy, so there's room for error. If you notice any such error, please feel free to correct me so I can fix it.**

**Until next time, Lord Moldybutt signing off.**


	5. Graduation Day

**A/N: Here I am, back again with a new chapter. A LONG new chapter.**

**As the title suggests, this is the Hi Skool Graduation Day. I based the proceedings heavily upon the episode "The Voting of the Doomed." If you're familiar with the episode, you'll pick up its influence pretty quickly. If not, then I guess you won't. Either way.**

**On with the show!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Graduation Day**

The rest of the week passed by very much the same. Each day, Gaz would go to Zim's base immediately after school and stay there, helping him get used to his new height until very late in the evening. She would then go directly to bed, not bothering to say more than a few words to Dib before beginning the cycle again the next day. She even took to sitting with Zim at lunch.

Zim was making excellent progress with his new form, and neither he nor Gaz had any doubt he would master at least all gross motor functions by graduation day—which was rapidly approaching. Zim seemed not to care about that fast-approaching date, but he was never one to plan ahead very far to begin with. _Gaz_, on the other hand, began to dread graduation more than Zim ever did, because graduation would mean the _end_ of it. She'd specifically told Dib that after graduation, she would stop worrying about Zim and move on with her life.

But she didn't _want_ to move on.

These past few days had been perhaps the most enjoyable of Gaz's life.

Gaz's life had never been the best. She'd been raised by a single parent since as far as she could remember, and that single parent was always so busy that he usually only communicated with his children through the use of camera feeds or pre-recorded messages. He only made time for his children one day a year, leaving them mostly to fend for themselves the other 364… _365_ on leap years.

Her father was never around, and her brother was so obsessive and annoying that Gaz could only wish that _he_ weren't around either.

That was why she sought solace in her video games and pizza. In the virtual world, there was no stupid older brother, no inattentive parent. There was only Gaz, her Game Slave, and an army of undead vampiric swine to vaporize. She could lose herself in those games until she forgot about the outside world and she no longer had to deal with all the peons that surrounded her. Her Game Slave was her _sanctuary_, her place of _solace_ in a world that refused to understand her.

Now, so was Zim's house.

Since that first day she'd visited the Zim's base, Gaz had noticed the difference. It was nothing like her own home, where Dib's voice rang constantly in her ears and a floating monitor hovered everywhere to remind her of the father she couldn't touch. And it was _nothing_ like Skool, filled as it was with students who would judge her every action if she didn't keep them in line with her apathy or hate.

No, Zim's house wasn't like that at all. When Gaz walked through that door, there were no pretenses. No one expected her to act a certain way or only do certain things. And quite unlike her own home, no one expected her to stay quiet and out of the way while everyone else in the house was doing something _far_ more important than _she_ was.

Zim's house was better than a Game Slave: in the games, Gaz was indeed free to do as she wished, but it was always through whatever avatar she may have had in the virtual world. Gaz experienced that same freedom with Zim—that ability to act without fear of being criticized—but it was _real_. It was _her_.

Zim's base was the only place where Gaz could really, truly be herself.

And that wasn't even counting Zim himself.

Zim was like no one she had ever seen before. He was nothing like Dib, who saw her mostly as a sidekick; and he was not like Professor Membrane, who usually regarded her as little more than a distraction. He wasn't even like Gaz's other classmates, who were either intimidated by her or flat-out _ignored_ her.

Zim _listened_ to her. He paid attention to whatever she had to say, and he always took her needs and desires into consideration. He probably only did so in order to create an ideal training environment, but even so, it was better than what Gaz usually got. When she was with Zim, Gaz felt _needed_. Maybe even _wanted_. And that was the best feeling she had ever known.

So it was with not a little anxiety that Gaz watched the rest of the week go by, until at last the day arrived that every senior in Hi Skool would remember for the rest of their lives:

_Graduation day_.

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

"YAY SKOOL YAY SKOOL SKOOL YAY YAY SKOOL YAY YAY YAY SKOOL YAY!"

At last, graduation day had come upon the Hi Skool, and all the students had assembled in the auditorium. As everyone filed into their seats, the Skool's robotic cheerleaders were up on the stage, delivering their most famous cheer in order to promote Skool spirit on this most important of days.

The Hi Skool seniors were given seats at the front and center of the auditorium. Each and all were dressed in the traditional cap and gown, which were a hideous shade of brownish green (_booger_ green, the primary Hi Skool color). Most of the students looked absolutely _awful_ in such attire, but Zim's celadon skin allowed him to pull off the look rather well.

At least, that's what Gaz thought as she sat down beside him.

Gaz had to give Zim credit: he'd done well in his training, and now he had almost perfect control of his body. He'd managed to make it all the way to Skool and into the auditorium without a single foul-up, but Gaz decided she'd better stay close to him… just in case. After all, there was still a chance that something might go wrong, and Gaz needed to be there if it did. It was solely out of _necessity_—it wasn't as though she particularly _wanted_ to sit next to Zim.

_Right_?

Before Gaz could answer her own ridiculous question, all the students made it into their seats and the robotic cheerleaders retracted into the floor. A hatch opened in the middle of the stage, and a podium rose from within. A boy with a husky frame, a bald head, and _very_ bad teeth climbed onto the stage and took his place behind the podium, preparing to speak.

It was _Willy_, the boy who'd been the president of his class ever since the fifth grade.

"Tally on and chippy ho, fellow students!" Willy announced. "Welcome to this year's _smashing_ graduation ceremony! I am William, your Student Body President, and it is my pleasure to get this celebration underway! How good it is to see all your chipper faces smiling up at me!"

This was met with cheers and applause by most of he students, but Gaz made it a point to frown when Willy made that particular comment. She _almost_ smiled, however, when she heard Zim grumble next to her, "Nonsense. No human tells _Zim_ when to be _chipper_."

After the applause died down, Willy announced, "Without further ado, fine ladies and gentlemen, it is my utmost pleasure to present to you your favorite teacher and mine, _Ms. Bitters_! Pip pip and cheerio!"

Willy stepped aside and allowed Ms. Bitters to take the floor. Rather than walk up to the podium as Willy had done, however, Ms. bitters seemed to _rise up_ from it, as though she'd been hiding behind it the entire time. The explanation was most likely more bizarre and sinister, but no one dared contemplate it as Ms. Bitters began to speak:

"Now, students, your horrible push into horrible adult society begins with this horrible graduation ceremony. Seniors may walk the horrible stage to get their horrible diplomas one at a time before forming a horrible line at the back of the stage, beginning with: _Willy_."

Willy hadn't strayed too far from the podium, so he was able to immediately take his diploma from Ms. Bitters. "Huzzah!" he cried happily as he pranced to the end of the stage where the line was to begin, clutching his diploma to his chest like a precious treasure.

What followed were perhaps the most boring and repetitive minutes of Gaz's life as Ms. Bitters called up the seniors one at a time, giving them their moment of "glory" as they walked across the stage and accepted their diplomas before lining up beside Willy. Her only consolation was that Zim was called up immediately after she was, which meant she would get to stand beside him. After all, she still needed to supervise him in case something went wrong… even though he reached the podium and snatched his diploma from Ms. Bitters's hand with perfect ease. Something still might go wrong, Gaz told herself. _That_ was why she wanted to stand next to Zim—for a _practical_ reason…

_Wasn't it_?

Before Gaz could ponder the question for too long, all the seniors had walked the stage and were standing in a neat little row behind the podium. As soon as everyone was in position, Ms. Bitters addressed the other students. "And now," she said with distaste, "the fetters of educational tradition dictate that our Hi Skool valedictorian must give a short and meaningless speech that will be completely forgotten by the time you all leave this auditorium." Ms. Bitters stepped aside to make room for the valedictorian. "And the senior with the highest grade point average this year is—"

"_Yes_!"

Ms. Bitters was interrupted by a loud, confident declaration as Invader Zim rushed up to the podium. "Yes!" he repeated. "I would just like to thank all you hideous dirt animals for choosing _me_, _ZIM_, as most superior among you! It is only natural that you should make such a choice, because I am obviously much smarter and more advanced than any one of you _pitiful humans_! _Now_ you see the supremacy of the finest Invader the Irken Empire has _ever wrought upon this universe_!"

Zim paused, waiting for the standing ovation he was sure he'd receive, but instead his ravings elicited only stunned silences and gaping jaws from his audience. Once again, Zim realized only too late that he may have said a little too much… but once again, the matter was easily corrected.

"Err…" Zim amended, "that's what I _would_ say if I were an _alien_, like the crazy Dib creature always says. But since I'm clearly a normal human mud beast, I'll just thank you for naming me your valedictorian and gracefully accept my award now. I am ZIM!"

Zim threw his arms triumphantly into the air, which was immediately met by cheers and applause by most of the students—someone in the back of the auditorium even gave a resounding shout of "ZIM _ROCKS_!"

Gaz did _not_ cheer, but there was a definite smirk on her face as she acknowledged that that _was_ a pretty nice save, and the human race was still dumb enough to buy it. Dib, of course, could only slap his forehead and sigh. Judging from the reaction of the students, _homo sapiens _was now the scientific term for _ignorant, complacent morons_. It was moments like this that sometimes made Dib wonder if mankind was really _worth _saving after all...

Ms. Bitters raised an arm, and immediately the applause died down. When the room was sufficiently quiet again, Ms. Bitters turned her sardonic gaze toward Zim. "Congratulations, Zim: you've managed to send all your peers into a frenzied uproar. But you're_ not_ the valedictorian."

Zim's eyes widened until they threatened to pop from his skull. "_What_? How could this _be_? Who is worthy to be valedictorian if not _Zim_?"

"_As I was saying_," Ms. Bitters hissed, "this year's valedictorian is… _Dib_."

A grin slowly spread across Dib's face as he came forward. "_Me_? _I'm_ the valedictorian?"

"Congratulations," Ms. Bitters muttered. "Now give your speech before your head's incredible mass alters the gravitational forces in this room."

Dib was so excited to be valedictorian that he didn't even give Ms. Bitters's comment a second thought. He was too busy thinking of _other_ things… like _victory_. "Ha! _In your face_, Zim!"

"_No_!" Zim wailed. "Surely there must be some mistake! Dib can't be smarter than _me_! It's _not possible_!"

Ms. Bitters glared hard at Zim. "Be silent and take your place in line. Your gaping jaws are beginning to attract flies."

Zim clenched his fists and grumbled incoherently until he took his position beside Gaz. "Nice one, Zim," Gaz whispered with blatant sarcasm.

"Hmph!" Zim grunted in return. "Obviously, _valedictorian_ is the Earth word for _enormous misshapen head_."

Gaz cast a glance in the direction of her brother. "Yeah, something like that."

Dib stood straight and tall at the podium as he cleared his throat, preparing to deliver his final address to the students who had mocked and laughed at him ever since his preschool days. "My fellow students," he announced pleasantly, almost resembling a politician speaking to potential voters.

The resemblance didn't last long. "_What is wrong with you_?" he demanded, leaning over the podium to make sure his point was perfectly clear. "I've tried to tell you for _eight years now_ that Zim is an _alien_! An evil, insidious being from outer space who wants to destroy our civilization! For _eight years_, the proof has been sitting right under your noses, and all you do is _ignore _it! You just _applauded_ the very person who wants to see you all as slaves to his leaders! _Leaders_, I might add, that have no special qualifications other than being _taller_ than everyone else!

"Well, you may doubt me now," Dib continued, "but _not for long_! This diploma in my hand means I can go on to become a _real_ Paranormal Investigator, and I'll use all my resources to expose Zim for the _fraud_ he is! And then you'll _all_ see! You'll all see just how wrong you are, and then I… I won't answer _any_ of your apology letters! What do you think of _that_? Huh? Huh? Huh?"

Silence followed. Zim immediately opened his mouth to refute Dib's claims, to announce to the world that he was the most normal Hi Skool senior this planet had ever seen. But before the words could come out, Gaz put up a hand to stop him. "Hang on a minute, Zim," she advised. "Just watch."

Zim wasn't sure why, but something inside him made him heed Gaz's words. He shouldn't have listened—he should have told her that _no one_ gave orders to one of the Irken Elite. But then again, over these past few days of training, Gaz's advice had never led Zim astray before. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to listen to her, just one more time…

The decision paid off almost immediately. "Dib," Ms. Bitters spat, "that was the most terrible speech to ever assault the eardrums of our student body. Students," she added, turning to the audience, "rotten fruit and other disgusting objects have been placed under your chairs for just such an event. Feel free to fling them now."

Sure enough, all the students in the auditorium found rotten fruit, vegetables, mud, raspberry jam, and other items that would be sufficiently squishy and gross when thrown… one lucky student even found a paper bag filled with doggie doo. When the students had armed themselves thus with their nasty projectiles, they obeyed Ms. Bitters's instructions and flung everything they had at Dib. "_No_!" Dib shrieked as an eggplant struck him in the face. "Wait! _Stop_! I'm sorry about the apology note thing! _YAAAAAAAHHHHHH!_"

"This graduation ceremony is concluded," Ms. Bitters said above the chaos. "You may all go home after you've sufficiently pelted Dib with garbage."

With that, Ms. Bitters left the stage; without a teacher to supervise things, the auditorium erupted into chaos. Raucous laughter filled the air as Dib ducked behind the podium to shield himself… but every time he poked his head out to see if the danger had passed, he was always greeted with more refuse.

Amidst the confusion, Zim turned to look at Gaz. "Gaz, that was _brilliant_!" he marveled. "By doing _nothing_, we allowed even _more_ suffering to rain down upon Dib's smelly human body! _Victory_! _Victory for ZIM!_ _AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HAH!_"

Zim's laughter resounded through the auditorium even louder than Dib's horrified screaming or the gleeful cries of the students throwing garbage. Amidst all that chaos, watching her brother squirm and listening to Zim's wicked cackling proved to be too much for Gaz. She simply couldn't control herself any longer, and she no longer wanted to _try_.

_Gaz_, the most dour and reclusive girl in the entire Hi Skool, _laughed_.

It wasn't a hearty belly laugh, like Zim's, nor was it anything like the little chuckles that Dib sometimes indulged in. Gaz's laughter was a tad softer, quieter… a surprisingly girlish _giggle_ that, although not particularly overpowering, perfectly expressed her amusement. That laughter conveyed on no uncertain terms that _Gaz was having fun_.

It was music to Zim's nonexistent ears, and it made him laugh twice as hard.

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

Graduation wound down rather quickly after that. Eventually, everyone got tired of throwing things at Dib and decided to go home. But the effects of that graduation endured, and when Gaz returned home that night, there was still a smile on her face. When _Dib_ arrived home, there was nothing on his face but goop.

_Zim_, by contrast, entered his base not quite sure _how _to feel.

When Zim walked through the door of his house, he found GIR sitting on the couch watching a soap opera, of all things, and his mechanical hands firmly gripped a Styrofoam cup filled with chocolate bubble gum. "Hi!" he called when he sighted his master, opening his mouth to reveal the brown-and-pink mixture he'd been chewing.

"Oh," Zim sighed wearily. "Hey, GIR."

Zim set his Hi Skool diploma down beside GIR on the sofa before he began to remove his disguise: cap, gown, contact lenses, and hairpiece. GIR immediately tossed the chocolate bubble gum aside and eyed the document hungrily. "I found fancy paper!"

By the time Zim turned around to acknowledge his robotic minion, GIR had already managed to shove the hard-earned diploma into his mouth.

Zim was so confused, he didn't even notice. "GIR, I have _horrible _news!" he announced. "I seem to have spent too much time around _Gaz_!"

GIR swallowed the diploma—it was poor etiquette to talk with one's mouth full—before he murmured, "Aww! I like Gaz!"

"I know, GIR," Zim affirmed, "and that's precisely our problem! Something _unthinkable_ is happening: I have the urge to do something… _nice_!"

GIR looked at his master quizzically for a moment, his internal processors hard at work trying to come up with a proper solution. "You wanna get more doughnuts?"

Zim shook his head and tapped his finger to his chin (a feat he was able to accomplish only because Gaz had helped him so). "No, GIR. I want to get this _niceness_ out of my system _quickly_, so I need something even _better_ than doughnuts. But _what could it be_?"

After a moment of racking their brains, GIR decided a little more TV might help Zim think better. He changed the channel, and immediately an advertisement flashed upon the screen—a _familiar_ advertisement, featuring a morbidly obese pig man surrounded by little grubby children.

"_Bloaty's Pizza Hog got a new kind of pizza! This new pizza so good, you'll eat it till you throw up all over the floor! Just like Bloaty! So come on down to Bloaty's Pizza Hog to get some good pizza! Or call Pizza Hog Hotline! If we don't deliver you pizza in twenty minutes or less, we got some good lawyers just in case! So get your pizza today! Ugh… Bloaty wanna retire _so much_…"_

Zim seized the remote and turned off the television. "GIR, I now how to get this plague of niceness out of my system once and for all! Tomorrow morning, _we call the piggy man_!"

"YAAAAY!" GIR squealed. "I like piggy people!"

Yes, Zim thought, this plan _couldn't _fail. He would treat Gaz to her favorite Earth food, and then his desire to be nice to her would vanish. Then, with complete control over his body again and no _human_ to slow him down, Zim could continue his plans for world conquest. Invaders, as Zim had often said, needed _no one_.

At least… that's what he _thought_.

* * *

**A/N: Whew! In a way, I'm glad this chapter's over, but it was still more fun to write than I'd first thought. That's Invader Zim for you!**

**I extend my thanks to all those who read and review, and I appreciate your patience as I upload this and subsequent chapters at a relatively slower pace than before. **

**Until next time, Lord Moldybutt signing off.**


	6. Of Things Not Normal

**A/N: Another chapter from the desk of Lord Moldybutt. The plot's really going to thicken now, so let's be sure to pay attention!**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Of Things Not Normal**

Although the following day was a Saturday, Gaz still awoke bright and early that morning. Her plan for the day was simple, but it was one she looked forward to: as soon as she was dressed and ready, she would head directly to Bloaty's Pizza Hog and sample its newest pizza. She would be so busy eating and playing video games all day that she would forget _all_ about…

Too late. She was thinking about him again.

_Zim_.

They hadn't been apart for more than one night, and already Gaz missed him. She should never have made that stupid promise to Dib, but it was too late to go back on it now. If Gaz so much as set foot on Zim's lawn, Dib would be all over her, asking her the sorts of questions that she was afraid to answer even to herself. And besides, Dib was applying for a job as a Paranormal Investigator today; as soon as he got that job, _nothing_, not even _Gaz_ would keep him from hunting Zim down.

It should have been no big deal. Gaz should easily have been able to let Zim go… he shouldn't have _meant_ that much to her. But the thought of never seeing him again made her feel sick inside in ways she'd never felt before. Thoughts of Dib _succeeding_—of using his resources as a Paranormal Investigator to capture Zim and use him for all manner of scientific tests—were almost enough to make her shudder. _Almost_, but not quite. She wasn't that far gone yet.

Gaz's shoulders slumped and there was a look of genuine sadness on her face as she climbed out of bed. She did her best to think of Bloaty's, of the day of food and fun that awaited her… but for some reason, those things didn't excite her the way they once did. She still loved pizza and video games, no questions there—but always in the back of Gaz's mind was the feeling that something would be _missing_: something tall, green, and extraterrestrial.

Gaz shook the thoughts from her mind. She was being ridiculous. As soon as she got to Bloaty's, she told herself, everything would be better. She could forget about Zim, and before long she would surely find that she didn't miss him at all. Not one little bit.

Even in her head, that didn't sound very convincing.

Before Gaz had any further chance to think, her bedroom door suddenly _whooshed_ open. Dib had apparently awakened even earlier than Gaz—he was already fully dressed and ready for the day. He seemed to be excited about something, and his fist clutched a single piece of paper. Gaz was admittedly curious as to what had Dib so worked up, but before she investigated further, something had to be established.

"_Dib_," Gaz said through gritted teeth, "how many times do I have to tell you to _never_ _come in my room_?"

"Sorry, Gaz," Dib replied quickly, "but I think you'll forgive me once you take a look at this!"

Gaz crossed her arms and shot Dib a skeptical look. "If it couldn't even wait until I got dressed, it better be worth it."

Dib only smiled in response. Gaz knew that look: it was Dib's "I know something you don't know" smile, and she _hated_ it. Especially now. Dib had no right to invade her privacy and taunt her in such a way.

The knowing smile was perfectly audible in Dib's voice as he told her, "It's from Zim."

As soon as her brain processed the information, Gaz's eyes went wide. _Zim_ had written her a _note_? What could it say? What could it _mean_? Gaz's mind raced with questions even as she seized the note from her brother's hands. It read:

_Gaz,  
__Meet me at the base as soon as you get this message.  
__I have something AMAZING to show you!  
__Love,  
__ZIM_

Gaz could scarcely believe it. _Zim_ was inviting her to his house for no apparent reason. He didn't need to train anymore, so Gaz couldn't help but wonder what he was up to. Could it be possible that he missed her as much as she missed him? And what exactly was it he wished to show her?

After a moment, Gaz looked back at Dib. "Where did you get this?"

"It was taped to the front door when I found it," Dib answered. "Zim must've gotten here pretty early—I woke up at six this morning so I could get ready for my job interview today, and by then the note was already there. _Gaz_," he added, excitement trickling back into his voice, "do you know what this _means_?"

Gaz raised a brow. "It means I'm going to Zim's house today?" _Forget Bloaty's_, she thought. Zim's house was better than all the Bloaty's Pizza Hogs in the world… or at least in the tri-state area.

"No!" Dib exclaimed. "Well… maybe. But it _really_ means all that time you spent at his house made him let his guard down! I don't know how you did it, Gaz, but Zim _trusts _you!"

"So?" Gaz asked, a hint of wariness in her tone. She suddenly didn't like where this was going.

"_So_?" Dib repeated, surprised that Gaz hadn't yet guessed his intentions. "_So_ you can do things that I _never_ could! Like _this_!"

Dib reached into his coat pocket and removed from it a machine no larger than his palm. "You could take this miniature spy camera and get Zim to take you into his underground base! You could take pictures of all his alien equipment while he isn't looking and then bring them back for me to analyze! If we're lucky, we might even be able to figure out a way to stop his next evil plan!"

Gaz stared at her brother in disbelief. He was asking her to _spy_ on the only being who'd allowed her to be herself… the only being whom she'd never needed to hide _anything_ from. He was asking her to betray the only living creature to ever make her _laugh_…

Gaz took the camera and stuffed it into Dib's mouth. "If you think I'm gonna help you turn Zim into a specimen on an autopsy table," she snapped, "then there's something wrong with your _stupid, swollen head_. Now, I'm going to Zim's house—if you have a _problem_ with that, that I'll shove that camera into a _different_ orifice."

Dib could only watch in shock as Gaz stormed off toward the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Dib waited until she was safely out of sight before he spit out the spy camera and murmured, "What was _that_ about?"

Ah well, it wasn't really important. He may have missed the chance to analyze Zim's base, but he _did_ still have a job interview to attend. He was so close to becoming a Paranormal Investigator, he could almost _taste_ it…

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

Gaz arrived at Zim's front door at precisely eight o'clock that morning. This was the first time she'd approached the house without Zim by her side, so it struck her as a bit odd that his lawn gnome security force didn't respond to her presence. She eventually shrugged this off, however, assuming he'd switched off the gnomes in anticipation of her coming.

Gaz knocked only once upon the door before Zim answered it—his human disguise, surprisingly enough, was not in place. Gaz had a perfect view of his pink-champagne eyes as he greeted her: "Gaz! You're here just in time!"

This piqued Gaz's interest a bit, even as her heart gave an involuntary flutter at the sound of Zim's voice. "Just in time for what?"

Without warning or provocation, Zim suddenly shouted, "_There's nothing in my underground base_!"

"I didn't say anything about your underground base," Gaz pointed out, not a little surprised at the outburst.

"Oh," Zim muttered sheepishly, his gaze drifting toward the floor. "You didn't? Well… that's _good_, because there's absolutely nothing suspicious in my base. And there most certainly aren't any _surprises_ waiting for you down there. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not one. So… who wants to go to my underground base?"

A faint smile tugged at Gaz's lips as she nodded, "Fine."

Gaz, unlike ninety-nine percent of Earth's population, was no fool. It was obvious that whatever surprise Zim had in store for her would be waiting in that base… and it was also clear that he was nervous. _Why_ he was nervous was much harder to guess, but Gaz suspected she would soon find out.

Zim led Gaz into the living room, where GIR was seated on the couch (like Zim, he was currently undisguised). There was a can of tuna in his mechanical hand, and he seemed to be trying to lick up the last of its contents. He paused for a moment to greet Gaz with a shout of "_Hi, lady_!" before returning to his tuna.

"GIR," Zim addressed the robot, "I'm taking Gaz to the simulator room. You stay here and… eat your _tuna_. Computer, take us to the simulators!"

Zim moved to a certain spot in the living room and gestured for Gaz to join him. As soon as they were both in position, the floor tiles beneath their feet lowered down a hidden elevator shaft.

"The _first_ part of your surprise," Zim said as the elevator continued its descent, "is that I've uploaded your bio-signature into the computer's mainframe. You now have full access to all the base's facilities, and the security protocols will no longer see you as a threat. That's why the gnomes didn't throw you out when you showed up. _Feel honored_!"

Gaz thought about this for a moment, and to her own surprise, she actually _did_ feel honored. Zim had given her full access to his base, something he had never entrusted to anyone else. Dib had been right: Zim _did_ trust her. Gaz had never been trusted by anyone but her own father before, and it felt indescribably _good_ to know that Zim had such faith in her. And it felt even better to know that she'd not an hour ago refused to help Dib betray that trust.

At last, the elevator came to a stop. Before the doors opened, however, Zim turned to look at Gaz. "Okay, we've made it. Now close your eyes and count backwards from five hundred and _sixty-three_!"

Gaz stared blankly at Zim for a second or two before asking, "_What_?"

"Too late!" Zim cried. "_Behold_, Gaz: Part Two of your incredible surprise!"

The elevator doors _whooshed_ open, and it took every ounce of self-control Gaz had to keep her tongue from lolling out of her mouth.

The simulator room was vast, but contained little in the way of furnishing. There were only two chairs in the center of the room, and a large computer console lined the far wall. Mounted above the console was a monitor so large that it took up much of the remaining wall space.

Gaz noticed none of these things, however, as she entered the room. Her gaze was fixed upon something else entirely.

In the middle of the room, stacked a bit precariously, were no less than _twenty_ pizza boxes. Gaz could smell the pizza's intoxicating bouquet all the way from where she stood, and it was arguably the most pleasant scent to ever enter her nostrils. This was Bloaty's _new_ pizza, and Gaz could tell just from its aroma that it was the best Bloaty's had come up with yet.

"_Zim_," Gaz murmured, "did you get _all_ this pizza… for_ me_?"

"Pretty neat, huh?" Zim asked as he moved to stand beside Gaz. "I actually ordered more, but the pizza guy threw out his spine trying to carry that gigantic mound of Earth _nastiness_! The ambulance just left about ten minutes before you got here."

Gaz continued to stare at the pizza. It was all she could do, since she could no longer bring herself to look Zim in the eyes. She knew all too well that Zim's body was intolerant of the meat and grease that saturated Bloaty's pizza… and yet he'd still filled his simulator room with the stuff, all because _Gaz_ liked it.

It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her.

"Ah," Zim went on, "and that's not all! You have also been chosen to help me, _ZIM_, improve my fine motor skills by playing against me in my flight and combat virtual reality simulators: programs very similar to Earth video games, only more _amazing_!"

To demonstrate, Zim approached the console at the far end of the room and opened a small panel in the middle. Immediately, two devices sprang from the panel… devices, Gaz observed, that looked eerily similar to _video game controllers_.

Gaz was stunned. This was _infinitely_ better than Bloaty's Pizza Hog. She still had all the video games and pizza she could possibly want, and now she didn't have to deal with the annoying animatronic animals (the closest thing here was GIR, and he was in the living room sucking tuna from a can). And she would get to spend the entire day with Zim. For some reason, that was the part that Gaz looked forward to the most.

Zim returned to Gaz's side and extended a controller for her to take. "So, Gaz, what do you think of your surprise? Is it not the most _glorious _thing you have ever seen in your short human life?"

At last, Gaz composed herself enough to look into Zim's eyes, though she couldn't shake the feeling in the back of her mind that a mountain of pizza and video games was only the _second_ most glorious thing she'd ever seen. "I think…"

A small smirk managed to creep onto Gaz's face as she finished, "I think the faster you start up that simulator, the faster I can kick your butt."

"Silly Earth female," Zim chuckled as he turned around, preparing to initiate the simulator, "naïvely thinking you can defeat _me_ in my own base. Heh heh… I just hope you aren't too upset when it is _I_ who kicks _you_ in the little human hiney!"

Gaz allowed her smirk to evolve into an actual smile. She liked spending time with Zim and enjoyed his company greatly, but that wouldn't spare him from the humiliation he was about to receive at her hands. If he thought that he could defeat her in _any_ game, Irken or otherwise, then he was even crazier than he acted.

This was going to be _fun_…

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

While Zim and Gaz were beginning their day of pizza and video games, Dib was already on his way to a job interview at the Departmental Institute of Paranormal Study, more colloquially known as the DIPS. Dib had had his heart set on the DIPS for a long time, and now he was eager to join the ranks of the _real_ Paranormal Investigators.

From the outside, the DIPS headquarters appeared to be an ordinary office building… mostly because it _was_ an ordinary office building. However, as Dib entered the lobby for the first time, he did notice a few distinguishing features.

Nearly _everything_ in the DIPS building was white: the walls, the floors, the light fixtures, and all the furnishings. All that white would have been blinding, were it not for the _second_ unusual feature: all the employees were dressed exactly alike. Each and all of the DIPS employees milling about the lobby wore dark collared shirts, black pants, black ties, and black shoes. Over this formal attire was invariably a dark trench coat; nametags, possibly serving as DIPS identification cards, were pinned to the coats. In addition, every single DIPS employee was wearing sunglasses.

Dib took note of all this, and the uniform seemed somehow _familiar_ to him. He _knew_ he had seen it somewhere before, but he couldn't quite remember _where_. When he saw the receptionist sitting at the desk, however, it all came flooding back to him.

It was _Bill_.

Bill had changed very little in the eight years since Dib had seen him last, though he'd developed a few streaks of gray in his short black hair. He sat in a relaxed position behind the desk, and his brows slowly raised as Dib approached. "Hey!" he pointed out. "You're that _Dib_ kid—the one who tried to help me catch Count Cocofang!"

Dib rolled his eyes. Of all the Paranormal Investigators in the world, _he_ got stuck with the one who believed in Count Cocofang and Frankenchokey. "Yes, Bill," he sighed, "it's me. I want to apply for a job here with the DIPS."

"Well, little man, you've come to the right place." Bill extended his hand and looked up at Dib through his sunglasses. "If you'll just hand me your résumé, we'll see if you're really DIPS material."

Dib reached into a pocket inside his coat and removed from it a single sheet of paper, upon which were chronicled all his achievements in the world of the supernatural. Bill took the résumé and stroked his chin as he read it:

"Hmm… it says here you discovered a family of Nosferatus in your neighborhood when you were six years old, tailed a Bigfoot baby when you were eight, and at the age of ten you disproved the myth of Chickenfoot. It also says you're the owner of the world's largest collection of spell drives and are a three-time guest on _Mysterious Mysteries of Strange Mystery_."

"I realize I might be a little overqualified," Dib told him, "but I think my contributions could really make a difference to the DIPS."

After a moment, Bill handed the résumé back to Dib. Dib took it eagerly as he asked, "So when do I start?"

"You won't," Bill stated calmly.

Dib's jaw dropped. "_What_?" he gasped. Surely this couldn't be the _end_ of it! Surely he wouldn't be denied the tools to save mankind by a stupid paranoiac like _Bill_! "What do you mean _I won't_?"

"All the things you wrote on that résumé are complete malarkey. _Everyone_ knows there's no such things as Nosferatus, Bigfoot, or spell drives—all that can be faked. Chickenfoot wasn't _disproved_, he was _cured_. And as for _Mysterious Mysteries, _that show is part of a government conspiracy to promote belief in goofy superstitions while the _real_ monsters run free! You, my poor boy, have fallen victim to nothing more than a string of lies and hoaxes. Until I get some _real_ paranormal accomplishments here, your business with the DIPS is concluded."

"_Just a minute, Bill_."

Before Bill had the opportunity to show Dib the door, another DIPS employee happened to enter the lobby. This one looked a bit different than the others—his trench coat was buttoned up, and the collar was so tall that it concealed the lower half of his face. The man's eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark glasses, like Bill's, and his head was completely bald.

At the sight of this newcomer, Bill immediately snapped to attention. "Uhh… hello, Ness."

"Hello, Bill," the man, apparently called _Ness_, replied. "What are you doing?"

"This boy came in with a phony résumé," Bill answered. "I was about to kick him out."

Ness shook his head. "Not necessary, Bill. I'll take over from here."

"But…" Bill tried to complain, though the angry glare that came from behind Ness's glasses was enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir."

With Bill safely pacified, Ness turned to Dib and beckoned for him to follow. "This way, kid."

Dib could only nod vacantly and fall into step behind him.

Ness soon led Dib into an adjoining hallway, the entirety of which was starkly white. The whiteness went completely unbroken, for there wasn't another DIPS employee as far as Dib's eye could see. He and Ness were completely alone.

It was in the privacy of this hallway that Ness turned to look at his young companion. "Your name… it's _Dib_, isn't it."

"Yeah," Dib affirmed. Ness's mysterious presence was making him a tad nervous. "How do _you_ know that?"

"We've talked before," Ness answered calmly, "but I'm not surprised you don't recognize me. Tell me, Dib… are your eyeballs _swollen_ in any way?"

Immediately, relief washed over Dib and all tension vanished away. _Now_ he recognized this man who stood before him, and he'd perhaps never been so happy to see anyone in his life. This man was a beacon of hope, a single bright light of intelligence within this dark den of incompetence. Dib's lips trembled as he uttered the man's _other_ name, the name that marked him as a cut above the average DIPS employee and as a brother in the most sacred of fellowships:

"_Agent Nessie_?"

"Nice to see you, Agent Mothman," Ness replied with a nod. "I've been expecting you."

* * *

**A/N: And here we are, the first OFFICIAL cliffhanger in this chapter. Evil, no?**

**The DIPS uniforms were based on the clothes Bill always wears in the series. Bill himself appeared in two episodes: "Career Day" and "The Sad, Sad Tale of Chickenfoot." Agent Nessie's only appearance (I think) was briefly in the episode "Zim Eats Waffles."**

**Dib's list of accomplishments came from the episodes "Bad, Bad Rubber Piggy," "The Sad, Sad Tale of Chickenfoot," "Gaz, Taster of Pork," and "Mysterious Mysteries." **

**On a final note, I apologize if I failed to respond to anyone's reviews. I completely lost track, but I think I missed at least one.**

**Until next time, Lord Moldybutt signing off.**


	7. Paranormal Investigation

**A/N: first off, I want to formally apologize to everyone for updating so late. 4th of July MADNESS prevented me from working on this chapter for a while. On the bright side, though, I seem to have acquired a new reviewer or two in my absence. But you didn't wait this long to read my silly ramblings, did you?**

**Let's get on with it!**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Paranormal Investigation**

Indeed, the man standing before Dib was Agent Nessie, a member of the secret society known as the Swollen Eyeball Network: a collection of the most brilliant paranormal minds on the planet, united for the sole purpose of seeking and exposing hidden truths for the benefit of mankind. In order maintain their anonymity and the secrecy of the Network itself, each member was known among the Swollen Eyeballs only by a codename (i.e.: "Mothman" and "Nessie").

Dib had been a junior member of the Swollen Eyeballs since his very early youth, when the Network had first recognized his sharp eyes, mind, and devotion to the supernatural. Surely this, working at the Departmental Institute of Paranormal Study under the wing of a fellow Swollen Eyeball associate, was a rite of passage for Dib to truly prove his worth. As such, it was understandably difficult for him to contain his excitement as he spoke to Ness.

"_Agent Nessie_, I can't believe it!" Dib exclaimed. "What are you doing here working for the DIPS?"

"Did you really think the Swollen Eyeballs wouldn't want to keep tabs on the DIPS?" Ness asked. "This is supposed to be the top facility of paranormal research in the area. It's my job to keep the Swollen Eyeball Network informed on new findings and to keep everyone here on track—_real_ paranormal study, not breakfast cereal mascots or nonexistent government conspiracies. That kind of thing is what landed Bill on the receptionist counter.

"_You're_ here, Agent Mothman," Ness continued, "so that _you_ can take _my_ job."

Dib's heart leaped at the thought. He was finally going to be a _real_ Swollen Eyeball agent, looking for news of the paranormal at its source and reporting it to the Network. At last, he was going to _make a difference_. It was _wonderful_! It was _fabulous_! It was...

"Wait a minute," Dib observed. "If _I'm_ gonna take _your_ job, then what'll _you_ do?"

"After you've had some time to gain experience in the field," Ness elaborated, "I'll report your progress to Agent Darkbootie. He's getting up in years, so he'll retire from his job at NASAPLACE and I'll take over as the new janitor… and, more importantly, as leader of the Swollen Eyeballs."

"Whoa," Dib marveled. Darkbootie was the greatest agent the Network had ever seen (he'd even been skilled enough to tie Bigfoot's toe hairs together in his youth), and it was difficult to think of anyone replacing him. Agent Nessie must have been _particularly _good at what he did.

"That's all you need to know about your assignment for now," Ness stated as he and Dib approached a door at the end of the hallway. "Now, let's get you suited up."

The door that Dib and Ness faced possessed no knob or handle; it was a solid sheet of white metal, with no visible way of opening it. Ness placed his palm in the center of the door, and a single beam of light passed underneath it—a scanner, no doubt, to ensure that only authorized DIPS personnel were allowed past.

Immediately, the door _whooshed_ open. Beyond it, several DIPS employees were milling about, seemingly without purpose. As Dib looked around, he saw rows of white lockers lining the white walls, in front of which were rows of white benches upon which the DIPS agents could sit. In other words, the DIPS locker room was very white.

"Normally," Ness pointed out, "a DIPS employee would be put through all the standard procedure: handprints, documentation of dental records, and all that stuff. But you're a special case, and the Eyeballs have that taken care of already. _This_ is what I _really _wanted to show you."

Ness led Dib to a locker near the far end of the room. The lockers in this place, much like the doors, had no locks or handles of any sort. In fact, the only distinguishing feature of any kind lay in the seven-digit number printed in black across the top: #8675309

"This is your locker," Ness explained, gesturing toward it as he spoke. "I'd memorize its number pretty quickly, or you'll _never_ find it again. You don't know how many rookies I've had to fire because they couldn't keep track of their own locker."

Dib glanced at the locker for a moment before turning back to Ness. "_This_ is what you wanted to show me? A _locker_? With a seven-digit number I have to memorize before I walk away from it if I want to keep my job? How am I supposed to _open_ this thing, anyway?"

"I _told_ you," Nessie sighed, crossing his arms and shaking his head, "we uploaded your handprint into the database already. Just put your hand on the door."

Dib did as he was told and placed the palm of his hand upon the smooth surface of Locker #8675309. Just as had happened with the door, a beam of light scanned Dib's handprint and the door _whooshed_ open.

Inside, Dib found an official DIPS uniform: the standard suit and trench coat that all the employees wore, complete with a pair of sunglasses with large, round lenses—just like Dib's spectacles.

"There it is, Dib," Ness said, folding his arms behind his back. "The last suit you'll ever wear."

"_Wow_," Dib murmured. "I've always wanted one of these, and now I finally—wait a second." Dib raised a brow and shot Ness a skeptical look. "Did you say the _last suit I'll ever wear_?"

Ness nodded. "That's right."

"So… what if I spill something on it?" Dib questioned. "Or if I have to have it dry cleaned? Do I have to stand there in my underwear until this exact suit comes out?"

Dib couldn't see Ness's eyes behind his shades, but he was pretty sure they were rolling. "Okay, so it's _not_ the last suit you'll ever wear. It's just something dramatic we say to rookies so they'll be filled with childlike wonder. Now just put on the suit."

As Dib set about this task, Ness continued to explain, "The suit was made specifically to fit you—don't ask where we got your body measurements. The glasses are made with dark-tinted lenses based on the results of your last eye exam, so you'll be able to see though them just like you would your other pair. Your coat is made of standard-issue DIPS material resistant to most chemicals, poisons, and food condiments. The soles of the shoes are coated with a chemical that prevents stuff from sticking to them… you know, just in case you step in gum or dog—"

Before Ness could finish describing the suit's features, Dib completed his ensemble by putting his sunglasses into place. "Oh _yeah_!" he declared. "I look _awesome_! If only Gaz were here to see this!"

Dib's eyes suddenly widened behind his new shades. He'd completely forgotten about _Gaz_! She was still at Zim's house, no doubt, falling prey to whatever horrible schemes that alien menace had in store for her. Perhaps he was experimenting on her right now… or _worse_.

Gaz had been going to Zim's house every day for the past week, and she had already proven some degree of _loyalty_ to him (Dib could still remember the taste of the camera she'd shoved in his mouth). And Zim, in turn, had demonstrated a fair bit of trust in Gaz. It was almost as though…

Yes, that was the only explanation. Zim was _brainwashing_ her. With all his contemptible alien guile, Zim was poisoning the mind of Dib's innocent little sister. How much longer before she gave into these persuasions… possibly _coercions_? How much longer before Zim broke her will and made her his slave, a pawn to be used in his game against the humans? How much longer before Dib stopped asking these silly questions and actually _did_ something about it?

"Agent Ne—err… _Ness_," Dib said quickly, being careful not to speak Ness's codename among non-associates, "I need to get back home! It's the _alien_! The one I've told everyone at the Network about! _He has my sister_!"

Ness nodded. "Then I'll make that your first official assignment for the DIPS. You get your sister back and see if she found out anything you can use to stop the alien. You can get any supplies you need from the Hall of Doodads in the southwest corridor."

"Southwest corridor, Hall of Doodads," Dib repeated. "Got it!" With that, Dib bolted out of the locker room, giving nary a pause as he called out, "Thanks, Ness! For everything!"

As Dib sprinted through the DIPS building, his mind raced with even greater urgency than his feet. There was no doubt in his mind now that Zim was indeed brainwashing his little sister. _Why_, however, was still left unanswered. What could Zim have to gain by winning Gaz over to his cause? What use could an alien have for an eighteen-year-old girl who did little but eat pizza and play video games day in and day out? Unless…

Unless Zim was using _Gaz_ to get to _Dib_.

The thought was almost too horrible to imagine, but it was the only one that made sense. By controlling Gaz, Zim could use her against Dib in all manner of ways: a hostage, a human shield, or even a _weapon_. Dib knew that he could _n__ever _fight his own sibling… and now he suspected Zim knew it too.

All these things flashed through Dib's mind as he ran, but above them all, a single prevailing thought escaped his lips.

"Don't worry, Gaz! I'm gonna save you whether you like it or not!"

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

"Player Two wins… _again_."

"_NOOOOOOOO!_"

Zim couldn't believe it. After _two hours_ of playing against Gaz in his virtual reality simulators, he'd not won a single game. Gaz had devastated him at every turn, no matter _what_ he tried. She made everything seem _effortless_, and Zim's sixteen decades of experience amounted to absolutely nothing against her. She didn't even show him the courtesy of _pretending_ to be challenged.

And yet he couldn't get enough of it.

Zim watched Gaz as she reached over and removed a slice of pizza from the pile beside her, at last finishing off her first box. She was _thoroughly_ enjoying herself, just as Zim had predicted she would. He had certainly completed his mission to be nice to her, if the smile on her face and the occasional laughter that escaped her lips was of any indication. But although his niceness was an utter success, something was still _very _wrong_._

The urge to be nice to Gaz hadn't disappeared. If anything, it was _stronger_.

He didn't understand how it could be, but the effect Gaz had upon Zim was more powerful than any drug in the galaxy. Her smile was a stimulant capable of making his Irken heart turn somersaults in his breast, and her laughter was enough to make his head swim. Her _eyes_, by contrast, were such powerful narcotics that he needed only look into them for a moment before his body and mind went completely numb. The sound of her voice was enough to tie his squeedlyspooch into knots.

And like any drug, stimulant or depressant, she was addictive. The more Zim made her smile, the more he _wanted_ to make her smile. Every time he made her laugh, he was filled with the desire to make her laugh _more_. And the closer she was to him, the more he _yearned_ for her. It was getting to the point that now, sitting beside her, he was in danger of losing his sanity entirely and actually _touching_ her.

It shouldn't have been this way. Ever since he'd been a tiny smeet, he'd been told that Invaders needed _no one_. The Irkens were a superior race because they had no need for attachments of any kind, and that was why the rest of the galaxy was doomed to horrible failure. But now, Zim realized, that wasn't entirely true. _Zim_ needed someone.

He needed _Gaz_.

That was why he'd invited her to his secret underground base and uploaded her bio-signature into his computer mainframe. That was why he't spend every cent of Earth monies he'd had on _pizza_. That was why, right now, he was sitting in his simulator room watching her destroy him in every video game he owned.

He needed her. He trusted her. He _wanted_ her. He wanted her very, _very_ much…

"Zim?"

Zim was snapped from his ponderings by the sound of Gaz's voice. "I've been kicking your butt for the past two hours. You wanna take a break for a little while?"

"_What_?" Zim asked, perhaps a bit indignantly. "You think that I, _ZIM_, can't handle playing these video games with you?"

"There's that," Gaz pointed out, "and there's the fact that you haven't eaten since I came over here."

"Ha!" Zim scoffed, rising from his seat. He set his controller in his chair and threw out his chest in a display of superiority. "I am an _Invader_! I've been trained to go for _days_ without eating so much as a little—_ooh, I can't take it any longer_! I need _snack_!"

With that, Zim bolted toward the elevator with all the speed he could muster—which was a good deal, considering how long his legs now were.

Gaz smiled in amusement as she followed behind him, sauntering at a leisurely pace. "Yeah," she said to herself, "that's what I thought."

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

Dib was now standing on the sidewalk directly in front of Zim's house. Another step would place him on Zim's front lawn—and, unfortunately, within the sights of his security gnomes. There were six of them, Dib noticed, arranged in two parallel rows of three. The concrete walkway that led to Zim's front door ran directly between the two rows, leaving not much room on the lawn for anything else. A scant few feet separated Dib from saving his little sister from the clutches of his mortal enemy… a few feet that were barred by terrible lawn ornaments of doom. How could he possibly hope to get past them?

Suddenly, a thought came to him—a flaw in the positions of the gnome fields. If Zim was as careless as Dib hoped, then there may have been a perfect opening.

With a burst of resolve, Dib sprinted toward Zim's front door. When he passed the first two gnomes, they immediately sprang into action, turning their heads at lightning speed and firing deadly laser beams from their eyes. By the time the beams were fired, however, Dib was already past. The lasers crossed over the sidewalk, and each gnome was destroyed by the beam of the other.

The process was repeated with the other two sets of gnomes, and by the time Dib reached the front door, all six of the gnomes had been reduced to smoldering heaps of scrap metal. "_Yes_!" Dib whispered in triumph, quietly enough that Zim wouldn't hear him but still loud enough to satisfy his desire to gloat. "Good old _stupid_ Zim."

After taking another moment or two to bask in his victory, Dib slinked toward the window to the left of the door, crouching down just enough to peek into Zim's living room. If the room was empty, then he could find a way inside the house and reach Zim's underground lair. If it wasn't, then he could at least see what evil scheme Zim had up his sleeve.

What he found there shocked him to the very core.

Zim and Gaz were sitting together on the living room couch, speaking in what appeared to be a very casual way. Zim was munching on a bag of potato chips; Gaz wasn't eating anything at present, though Dib noticed a small amount of pizza sauce on the corner of her mouth. GIR was currently in the floor, staring at the television and doing leg lifts (apparently, he was watching an exercise video).

For a single horrifying moment, they almost looked like a _family_—mother and father chatting on the sofa while the child played nearby.

Dib gave a shudder as he forced the thought out of his mind. He would never, _ever_ let it come to that. His mission was now perfectly clear: he had to split Zim and Gaz up quickly and permanently before their relationship escalated into something _deeper_. And the thought of his little sister doing anything of the sort with an _alien_, let alone _that_ alien, gave Dib the urge to be violently ill.

But what could he do? Dib knew from eighteen years of experience that Gaz wouldn't listen to reason, especially when it came to such a sensitive matter. No, Dib would have to take a more _subtle_ approach, one that would make Gaz realize once and for all the menace that Zim truly was.

Good thing he'd stocked up on equipment from the Hall of Doodads.

* * *

**A/N: Ooh, dang. I kept you all waiting for what was mostly a brief filler chapter (albeit necessary filler), which ended with another cliffhanger. Man, am I nasty or what?**

**I hope everyone remembers Agent Darkbootie from various _Invader Zim_ episodes, most prominently featured in "Battle of the Planets." I don't really know if he's the leader of the Swollen Eyeball Network or not, but it seems logical to me. And what more prestigious occupation can there be than the official janitor of NASAPLACE?**

**I also inserted a couple of pop culture references in this chapter to tease your brains. If your brains are sufficiently teased, then I've done my job.**

**Until next time, Lord Moldybutt signing off.**


	8. The Kiss that Almost Was

**A/N: I truly, deeply apologize for being so late and for the pitiful length of this chapter. I had intended to make it longer, but my attention is required elsewhere and I haven't managed to fit in much time for Invader Zim lately. I'll try to get back on track as soon as I can, but updates may be slow for a little while. **

**For now, enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Kiss That Almost Was**

Zim and Gaz were indeed sitting upon the sofa in Zim's living room, having perhaps one of the most scintillating conversations Gaz could ever remember participating in. She had never done anything like this before… even with her own father, who was generally too busy to say more than a few words to her at a time. Everyone else was far too stupid or annoying (most often both) to be worth talking to in the first place. But not Zim. Zim was _different_.

Perhaps it was because he was the only being to ever truly listen to her. Perhaps it was because he was the only living creature that Gaz could truly consider an equal. Or perhaps it was his presence alone that made her feel this way, as commanding as it was in his newer, exponentially _taller_ body. A body which, Gaz thought, still looked _amazing_…

But whatever the reason, one thing was clear: Gaz wanted to tell Zim _everything_.

"You know," Gaz reflected after a brief pause in the discussion. "I've never actually sat down and _talked_ to someone like this before. My dad's almost never around, and when he is he's always too busy in his labs to pay much attention to me. And _Dib_… I don't think I could say anything that could get through his thick, giant skull."

As she said this, Gaz happened a glance down at GIR. He was _not_ watching an exercise program, as one might discern from his movements. In fact, he was watching a _cooking_ show, and the chef on the television was demonstrating how to roast a duck: "_And now, we stuff the duck with all kinds o' good duck stuffings, ya? Ooh, look at that! Stuff the duck!_"

GIR watched the television in awe for a moment before he leaped to his feet and began doing jumping jacks with all the energy his little robotic limbs could muster. "Look at me," he cried with unbridled zeal, "_I'm STUFFIN' A DUCK_!"

Gaz smiled at the display and shook her head before turning to look at Zim once more. "But I guess it's been like that for you too, hasn't it? Stuck here for _eight years_ with just a robot to talk to—and it isn't like you could really talk to _that_."

Gaz gestured toward GIR, who had switched from jumping jacks to sit-ups. "Now I'm gonna _baste_ the duck!" he squealed.

Gaz looked deeply into Zim's pink Irken eyes. "Did you _ever_ have people you could talk to? Y'know… back on your home planet?"

Zim raised a tentative brow, as though the question were a peculiarity unheard of in Irken society. All he said was, "Huh?"

"I don't know," Gaz shrugged, "maybe a _family_?"

Zim continued to stare at her in bewilderment for a moment, and Gaz was almost sorry she'd asked the question. After that moment, though, the proverbial light bulb flickered on in Zim's mind as he remembered what, exactly, a family _was_.

"Heh heh heh," he chortled, "of _cours_e not. Irken smeets are grown in little cloning facilities; when we've gestated, we're harvested by cold, unfeeling robot arms that screw PAKs in our backs and download all of Irken knowledge into our feeble infant brains. Then we get assigned a name and a job; I was chosen to be a member of the Irken Elite—because I'm amazing—and sent to the planet Devastis for training. After that, I never had a loving relationship with anyone ever again. Yup," he added, turning his gaze and staring into far-off place that only he could see in his mind's eye, "sometimes I miss that robot arm."

Gaz didn't know whether to feel sorry for Zim or dismiss the entire sentiment as a comical alien quirk. An _alien invader_, a creature who'd admitted to flying spaceships since before Gaz was born, had an emotional attachment to a mechanical arm. It was _absurd_… and yet it reflected how very alone in the universe Zim truly was.

"Wow," Gaz marveled, staring at Zim with newfound admiration. He was not only a brilliant alien with the capacity to take over the world, but he was a _kindred_ _spirit_. He was someone who understood what it was to be lonely, surrounded by those who were either too busy to care or too stupid to understand.

"Wow, Zim…" Gaz repeated. "You don't have _anyone_, do you?"

Zim shook his head and smiled, seeming almost _proud _of his answer. "Nope. I sure don't."

After a second or two, Zim stopped and looked into Gaz's eyes. And then he too began to understand. He and Gaz were alike in more ways then he'd thought. For some reason, he took a great deal of pleasure in that. Of course he knew that people _should_ be more like him, but for some reason the similarity between Gaz and himself struck him on a deep emotional level. A _primal_ level.

Gaz's lips began to tremble as she looked into Zim's eyes, those twin pools of pink champagne that sparkled enticingly in the light. "I guess…" she whispered, her words as shaky as the lips through which they passed. "I guess _I _don't have anyone either…"

She was so lost in Zim's eyes that she didn't notice how close to him she was getting, or how her mouth subtly parted as it reached for Zim's…

**~~~Victory for Zim!~~~**

From his vantage point outside Zim's window, Dib watched the proceedings in utter horror. Zim and Gaz were _leaning closer_, and their eyelids were slowly drifting closed. Where they going to—no, it was preposterous! But _there it was_! Dib could see the telltale signs, and he knew he had to move quickly before his sister locked lips with a horrible alien menace!

Dib reached into his trench coat and removed from its inside pocket a black sphere the size of a billiard ball. He quickly flicked a tiny switch on the sphere with his thumb, and eight mechanical legs erupted from the sides of the sphere. A little mechanical head also appeared, with glowing robotic eyes and a set of tiny metal mandibles. It was a _mechanical spider_.

Dib tossed the spider into Zim's living room as though it were a deadly grenade, and with not a moment to spare—Gaz's face was hardly an inch from Zim's. It was Dib's intent for the cybernetic arachnid to land on Zim's face, which would in turn cause Gaz to draw back in revulsion and shatter the "romantic" atmosphere. And oh, how much Dib hated to even _think_ the word "romantic" when Zim and Gaz were involved. Had he not been trying to keep a low profile, he may have retched all over Zim's lawn; although insulting as that would have been to his arch nemesis, Dib resolved to hold it in until a more opportune time.

Dib did not achieve his desired effect, but the one he _did_ produce was just as good. Perhaps even better.

The spider flew into the room and latched onto Zim's head with all the mechanical strength in its eight slender legs. The spider's presence did cause Zim and Gaz to open their eyes, as Dib had hoped, but it was not Gaz who pulled away in revulsion.

"_YAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!_"

Zim's scream resounded all throughout the house, and most likely the entire neighborhood, as he leaped to his feet and began to flail about in a maddened panic. "_GAH!_" he continued to shout, running in such erratic circles that they might have put GIR to shame. As it was, GIR was torn from his cooking show by the din and began to run and scream right alongside his master.

"_Help_! Help! Somebody _help me_!" Zim wailed, his circles growing wider and more unpredictable. "A horrendous Earth creature has seized my magnificent head! _Help_! _Heeeeeeeellllllllp!_"

Dib snickered quietly to himself as he observed the spectacle. Not only had he prevented what would surely have been an abominable kiss, but now Zim was in such a hysteria over a little robot spider that Gaz would surely see him for the coward he was. A smile graced Dib's visage as he added a point to his mental scoreboard: _Dib 1, Alien Scum 0_.

Gaz could do little but sit and watch until Zim's hysterics came to an end. The end came rather abruptly, for Zim's terror soon became so blind that he inadvertently smashed into a wall—thankfully for Dib, it was the wall opposite the windows. GIR quickly followed suit and slammed his full weight into the wall beside Zim, crashing to the floor with an almighty _clang_.

"Yay!" GIR declared jubilantly. "Let's do it again!"

Zim could only groan in response as he lay on the floor in horrible pain.

At last, with the farce at a decisive end, Gaz rose from the couch and approached Zim with a tiny smile on her face, her overall expression an even mixture of pity and amusement. She closed her fingers around the offending artificial invertebrate and quickly jerked it free. With her free hand she reached down and offered to help Zim rise to his feet. There was a hint of genuine concern in her voice as she asked, "You okay, Zim?"

"Of course!" Zim replied quickly even as he took Gaz's hand. "I, err… _meant_ to do that! Yes! So that _I _could protect _you_ from that hideous disgusting animal!"

Gaz sighed. Part of her wanted to deck Zim then and there for saying that he protected her from _anything_, let alone an insignificant bug. But then again, there was something sweet in the triumph that appeared on his face when he spoke of keeping her safe. In the end, she supposed she could forgive him, just this once… after all, he had more than made up for any future offense by buying her such an unholy amount of pizza and letting her play so many video games.

Instead, Gaz turned her attention to the spider that was still in her grip. It was unusually large for a spider, and it was cold to the touch—no doubt a machine of some sort. Where it had come from was unknown, but Gaz had her suspicions. And she was _not_ about to let Dib's weirdness ruin her day with Zim.

Gaz handed the spider to the little robot that still lay in the floor. "Here, GIR. Eat this."

GIR promptly sat up and shoved the spider into his mouth. "The legs are all tickly!" he announced.

Zim's eyes shifted between Gaz and GIR before he returned his attention to his female companion once more. "Well, I think I've sufficiently filled my belly meats with snacks," he told her. "Wanna go back to the underground base?"

Gaz only nodded and allowed Zim to lead her to the tiles on the floor that would sink down into the simulator room once again. GIR resumed his position on the floor, guarding the house from intruders and watching the TV.

Through it all, Dib continued to watch from the window. Prying Zim and Gaz apart was going to be trickier than he'd thought. He may have stopped the kiss, but Zim and Gaz still seemed to be quite attached to each other, especially evidenced by a single glaring detail:

Since Gaz had helped Zim up, they had never stopped holding hands.

* * *

**A/N: See? Told you it was short. And I once again apologize for all delays, past and future. **

**Zim's "military history" was drawn from the episode "Tak: The Hideous New Girl." If it's wrong, take it with a grain of salt. Or pepper. Heck, you can even take it with a grain of paprika if you prefer. I'm not particular about it.**

**Until next time, Lord Moldybutt signing off.**


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